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OLD  TALES 


AND 


MODERN  IDEALS 

A    SERIES    OF    TALKS    TO 
HIGH  SCHOOL  STUDENTS 


BY 


JOHN  HERBERT  PHILLIPS 

Superintendent  of  Public  Schools,  Birmingham,  Alabama. 


II 0 


SILVER,  BURDETT  AND  COMPANY 
flew  HJorfc        Btlanta       JBoeton        Dallas        Cbfcago 

FLB  1908 


COPYRiaHT,  1905,  BY 
SILVER,  BUEDETT  AND  COMPANY. 


WITH 

faith.  Dope,  and  Hofce, 

I  dedicate  this  little  volume  to  the  young  men 
and  women,  who,  as  students  of  the  Birmingham 
High  School,  inspired  my  unfaltering  Faith  in 
youth,  strengthened  my  Hope  for  the  future  of 
my  State  and  Country,  and  established  my  Love 
towards  God  and  all  Goodness. 


PREFACE. 

FOR  a  number  of  years,  the  program  of  the  Birming- 
ham High  School  has  provided  for  a  brief  talk  to  the 
assembled  students  every  Monday  morning,  by  the 
superintendent  or  some  invited  speaker.  The  purpose 
of  these  talks  has  not  been  entertainment :  it  has  been 
something  more  than  instruction;  the  presentation  of 
worthy  ideals  and  the  inspiration  to  nobler  living  have 
always  been  the  dominant  ends  in  view.  The  "  Talks  " 
here  published  are  selected  from  a  large  number  made 
to  the  school  by  the  superintendent  and  are  presented 
substantially  as  delivered,  excepting  so  far  as  their 
reduction  to  writing  after  delivery  may  have  marred 
their  effectiveness  by  making  them  more  pretentious 
and  formal  in  style. 

Their  publication  in  this  form  is  due  to  the  solicita- 
tion of  friends  who  believe  they  may  serve  to  stimulate 
teachers  and  others  in  their  efforts  to  give  the  students 
of  our  high  schools  more  wholesome  ethical  instruction 
and  richer  life  ideals. 

JOHN  HERBERT  PHILLIPS. 
Birmingham,  Ala. 
January,  1905. 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE. 


THIS  volume  of  addresses,  delivered  to  the  High 
School  students  of  Birmingham,  Alabama,  the  Publishers 
desire  to  bring  to  the  attention  of  the  general  reading 
public  and  of  teachers. 

As  a  book  of  varied  essays,  in  which  tales  from  myth, 
tradition,  and  history  bear,  each  with  significant  illustra- 
tion, upon  the  ideals  of  modern  life,  it  is  recommended  to 
readers  everywhere. 

To  teachers,  both  in  High  Schools  and  in  Grammar 
Schools,  it  will  prove  a  book  of  large  practical  value  in 
aiding  them  to  develop  the  ethical  application  of  lessons 
hi  literature  and  history  and  to  guide  the  daily  conduct 
of  the  school.  It  is  adapted  for  use,  not  merely  by  the 
teacher  alone,  but  by  teacher  and  pupils  together  in  the 
classroom.  Chapters,  or  shorter  selections  suggested  by 
some  topic  of  the  day,  may  be  read  aloud  by  the  teacher ; 
or,  in  the  higher  grades,  the  book  may  be  used  as  a  Sup- 
plementary Reader  in  the  hands  of  the  pupils  themselves. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  Janus,  the  Roman  Gate-God 9 

II.  The  Student's  Dividends 18 

III.  The  Choice  of  Solomon 26 

IV.  Laughter  an  Index  of  Character 33 

V.  The  Philosophy  of  Want 41 

VI.  A  Lesson  from  an  Old  Roman  Coin 47 

VII..  Knowledge  and  Power 55 

VIII.  The  Passing  of  the  Fences 63 

IX.  A  Cloud  of  Witnesses 71 

X.  The  Story  of  the  Centuries 78 

XI.  Vegetable  Sociology 86 

XII.  Perseus  and  Medusa 93 

XIII.  Wealth  and  Poverty 104 

XIV.  Historical  Ideals 113 

XV.  The  Kingdom  of  Man 120 

XVI.  Imprisoned  Genii 128 

-  XVII.  Altars  of  Thanksgiving 138 

XVIII.  Work  and  Recreation 146 

XIX.  Work  and  Character 153 

•    XX.  The  Message  of  Easter 164 

XXI.  The  Miser  of  New  Orleans 172 

XXII.  The  Story  of  Echo  and  Narcissus 181 

XXIII.  The  Value  of  the  Ideal 194 

XXIV.  The  Laws  of  Development 203 

XXV.   Modern  Chivalry 217 


OLD  TALES  AND  MODERN  IDEALS. 

/  7^  3  9 

I.    JANUS,  THE  ROMAN  GATE-GOD. 

Janus  am  I  :  oldest  of  Potentates ; 

Forward  I  look,  and  backward,  and  below 

I  count,  as  god  of  avenues  and  gates, 

The  years  that  through  my  portals  come  and  go. 

— Longfellow. 

IN  ancient  Rome,  beside  the  Forum,  stood  the  famous 
temple  of  Janus  Quirinus.  In  time  of  war,  its  gates 
remained  open,  a  signal  to  the  people  that  their  deity 
was  at  the  front,  opening  the  gates  of  new  territory 
for  the  Roman  Empire;  when  war  had  ceased, — a  sel- 
dom occurrence  in  Rome, — the  gates  of  the  temple  were 
closed  as  a  pledge  of  peace.  Janus  was  the  god  of 
gates  and  doors — the  guardian  divinity  of  all  entrances. 
As  usually  represented,  he  had  two  faces,  because  gates 
and  doors  look  two  ways,  outward  and  inward;  and  in 
one  hand  carried  a  staff  and  in  the  other  a  key,  the 

9 


10  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN   IDEALS. 

badge  of  his  office.  Being  keeper  of  the  gates  of  earth 
and  the  gates  of  life,  and  janitor  of  heaven,  he  opened 
the  year  and  the  seasons  and  inspired  every  beginning 
and  every  invention.  Therefore,  he  was  invoked  before 
every  important  action;  and,  as  no  rites  of  worship 
could  be  undertaken  without  his  aid,  he  was  given 
precedence  over  all  other  Roman  deities.  Since  the 
time  of  Numa,  the  first  month  of  the  Roman  year  has 
been  called  January,  in  his  honor;  and  the  name  re- 
mains to  this  day — a  lasting  memorial  to  Janus,  the 
"  Gate-God." 

I  need  not  apologize  for  introducing  this  old  mytho- 
logical deity  as  the  theme  of  this  morning's  talk.  You 
have,  no  doubt,  already  anticipated  my  purpose.  Many 
of  the  old  classic  myths  and  fables  are  rich  in  fruitful 
suggestions  to  thoughtful  students.  The  lessons  to  be 
derived  from  the  fabulous  gate-god  of  the  ancient 
Romans  are  not  only  interesting,  but  particularly 
appropriate  for  the  first  day  of  the  term — the  gateway 
to  the  work  of  a  new  semester. 

The  beginning  of  anything  is  always  regarded  as 
important.  In  ancient  Rome  it  was  deemed  so  im- 
portant that  it  was  put  in  charge  of  a  special  god. 
The  Romans  doubtless  thought  that  if  their  god  would 
help  them  to  begin  well,  they  could  manage  to  carry 
on  the  undertaking  fairly  well  without  him.  This 


JANUS,   THE   ROMAN    GATE-GOD.  11 

belief  is  not  uncommon  in  our  own  time.  There  are 
many  young  men  who  think  that  if  some  one  will  only 
help  them  get  a  position,  nothing  else  is  necessary.  In 
their  own  conceit,  they  are  self-sufficient;  and  the  one 
condition  of  their  success  is  to  get  a  position.  To  the 
average  office-seeker  in  this  country,  the  whole  quali- 
fication for  holding  office  is  to  be  able  to  get  the 
appointment.  No  matter  how  unworthy  or  how  ignor- 
ant he  may  be,  if  he  can  induce  the  guardians  of  the 
Republic  to  help  him.  get  an  office,  his  sublime  self- 
confidence  is  such  that  he  has  no  question  of  his  abil- 
ity to  hold  it  without  any  assistance,  human  or 
divine. 

While  we  of  this  age  do  not  invoke  the  aid  of  the  old 
heathen  divinity,  we  still  emphasize  the  beginning  of 
important  undertakings  and  attach  special  significance 
to  the  first  day  of  the  year,  to  birthday  anniversaries, 
to  the  inauguration  of  certain  periods,  to  the  laying  of 
corner-stones  of  public  buildings,  and  to  the  initiative 
step  in  any  great  work.  We  still  emphasize  the  old 
proverb,  "  Well  begun  is  half  done."  To  begin  aright, 
to  enter  upon  our  work  fully  prepared,  in  the  right 
spirit  and  with  the  proper  conception  of  our  own  duty 
and  responsibility,  is  far  more  important  than  young 
people  usually  imagine.  Many  a  battle  has  been  lost 
because  of  poor  preparation  and  a  bad  beginning;  many 


12  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

a  promising  career  has  been  blasted,  many  a  life  has 
ended  in  disgrace  and  disaster,  because  of  the  failure 
to  begin  aright.  Today,  the  one  essential  to  success  is 
right  preparation.  The  nation  that  wins  the  battle  is 
the  nation  that  is  best  prepared  and  best  equipped  with 
trained  soldiers  and  modern  munitions.  Today,  it  is 
not  the  young  man  of  wealth  and  luxury  and  ease  who 
wins  the  laurels  of  life,  but  he  who,  through  patient 
struggle  and  obscure  toil,  becomes  fully  prepared  and 
completely  equipped  to  do  that  which  he  dares  in  the 
work  of  life.  It  is  today  literally  true  that  "  The  race 
is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong."  Pre- 
pare to  begin  well  the  work  of  life.  This  is  the  first 
lesson  I  would  impress  upon  you  today.  There  are 
new  gates  to  open,  new  doors  to  enter.  The  world  has 
great  work  in  store  for  those  who  are  prepared  to  do 
it,  and  great  glory  for  those  who  succeed.  Great  duties 
and  great  responsibilities  confront  you.  Will  you  be 
prepared  to  meet  them?  You  are  naturally  eager  to 
find  out  what  is  before  you :  you  are  mentally  on  tiptoe 
of  expectation  to  learn  what  interesting  revelations  of 
life  and  of  nature  are  reserved  for  you  in  the  new  fields 
you  are  about  to  explore — what  beauties,  what  delights, 
what  mental  conquests;  aye,  and  also  what  struggles, 
what  pains,  what  reverses  and  disappointments!  Ke- 
solve  to  begin  well ;  for  the  beginning  is  the  condition 


JANUS,   THE    BOMAN    GATE-GOD.  13 

and  the  promise  of  the  end.    The  struggle  must  come 
before  the  victory. 

"  Greatly  begin !  though  thou  have  time 
But  for  a  line,  be  that  sublime." 

Important  as  it  is  to  begin  well,  do  not  imagine  that 
this  is  all.  A  continuous  line  may  be  conceived  as  a 
succession  of  contiguous  points,  or  a  point  in  continu- 
ous motion;  so  life  may  be  regarded  as  a  series  of 
beginnings.  The  great  and  noble  life  is  that  which 
begins  daily,  continuously  and  persistently.  If  you 
would  truly  succeed,  the  ardor,  purpose,  and  courage 
of  the  beginning  of  your  work  must  be  continued  to  the 
very  end.  "  He  that  persevereth  to  the  end,  the  same 
shall  be  saved."  As  a  rule,  most  students,  when  they 
enter  school,  are  very  much  alike :  they  start  apparently 
on  an  equal  footing.  It  is  at  the  close  of  school  that 
we  find  the  difference.  It  is  human  destiny  that  gives 
us  the  angle  of  divergence.  Most  men,  as  they  enter 
upon  the  race  of  life,  differ  but  slightly  in  their  capa- 
bilities for  culture  and  nobility;  but  oh,  how  sad  the 
difference  at  the  close!  Most  failures  in  life  are  due, 
not  to  want  of  intellectual  capacity,  but  to  want  of 
perseverance  and  steady  adherence  to  purpose.  It  is 
quiet,  diligent  work  that  tells,  not  spasmodic  effort,  in 
school  as  well  as  in  the  larger  business  of  life.  Scien- 


14  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

tists  tell  us  that  it  requires  the  electricity  of  thirty- 
seven  ordinary  lightning  flashes  to  keep  one  little  in- 
candescent lamp  burning  for  one  hour.  We  want 
students  in  our  high  schools,  and  men  and  women  in 
every  department  of  life,  who  will  work  purposefully 
and  persistently,  not  those  who  flash  spasmodically  for 
special  occasions,  and  who  cannot  be  relied  upon  for 
continuous  effort. 

There  is  another  beautiful  lesson  suggested  by  the 
story  of  Janus,  the  old  Roman  gate-god.  You  remem- 
ber that  he  was  usually  represented  with  two  faces,  so 
that,  while  guarding  the  gates  and  doors  of  his  wor- 
shipers, he  could  look  at  once  both  ways — outward 
and  inward.  This  is  a  significant  characteristic  and 
suggests  the  important  thought,  that,  as  we  enter  the 
gates  of  life,  we  must  look  within  as  well  as  without. 
Man  must  deal,  not  only  with  the  physical  world  with- 
out him — the  world  of  science,  art,  and  literature,  the 
world  of  society  and  of  government,  but  also  with  the 
world  of  thought  and  of  passion,  of  feeling  and  of 
conscience — the  world  of  unfathomable  mystery  that 
lies  within  himself.  As  you  stand  upon  the  threshold 
of  life  and  prepare  to  enter  the  open  gates  of  the  great 
untried  world  before  you ;  as  you  look  upon  the  inviting 
fields  and  pleasing  prospects  that  stretch  out  in  every 
department  of  knowledge  and  of  industry,  do  not 


JANUS,   THE    ROMAN    GATE-GOD.  15 

forget  to  look  within.  Your  appreciation  and  mastery 
of  the  great  world  without  will  depend  upon  the  culti- 
vation and  mastery  of  the  little  world  within.  The 
extent  of  your  outlook  will  be  proportional  to  the  depth 
of  your  inlook.  Cultivate  the  finer  feelings  and  senti- 
ments of  the  soul ;  banish  deceit  and  dishonesty  in  word 
and  thought;  expel  every  base  motive  and  unworthy 
suggestion  before  it  has  time  to  become  crystallized 
into  action.  Keep  your  minds  full  of  pure  and  en- 
nobling thoughts,  and  the  bad  will  have  no  chance  to 
enter. 

Our  deadliest  enemies  lie  within  ourselves.  Many 
a  genius  has  won  signal  victories  in  the  world  without 
— the  world  of  science  and  invention,  literature  and 
art,  industry  and  finance,  only  to  succumb  at  last  to 
hidden  foes  within.  Guard  well,  then,  the  sacred  por- 
tals of  this  temple,  while  you  strive  for  conquest  in  the 
larger  world  without.  "  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  dili- 
gence, for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of  life."  Enter,  then, 
my  young  friends,  the  avenues  of  knowledge  that  are 
opening  and  widening  before  you.  Like  Janus  Quiri- 
nus,  keep  in  one  hand  the  staff  that  is  essential  to 
sustain  material  life  and  to  provide  for  your  physical 
needs  and  comforts;  in  the  other,  hold  fast  the  key 
that  shall  unlock  for  you  the  gates  of  knowledge  and 
the  doors  of  moral  and  spiritual  power.  Look  within  as 


16  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN   IDEALS. 

well  as  without.  Cultivate  the  power  of  introspection 
— the  habit  of  self-examination.  "  Know  thyself." 
This  is  the  first  step  in  true  wisdom.  Nobility  of 
character,  which  is  true  greatness,  is  due  far  more  to 
the  inner  powers  and  processes  of  the  soul  than  to 
conditions  and  factors  that  are  wholly  without. 

The  last  lesson  of  the  old  heathen  myth  is  then  the 
most  beautiful  of  all.  Janus,  the  old  Roman  gate-god, 
is  simply  the  personification  of  conscience — the  Divine 
element  in  the  soul.  As  Janus  presided  over  the  gates 
and  doors  of  Eome  and  at  the  beginning  of  everything, 
so  conscience  should  guard  the  gates  of  life  and  should 
be  consulted  at  the  beginning  of  every  action.  As 
Janus  carried  a  staff  in  one  hand  and  a  key  in  the 
other  and  faced  in  two  directions  at  once,  so  con- 
science, sustained  by  the  staff  of  material  life  and 
carrying  in  her  hand  the  key  to  all  the  gates  of  life, 
has  regard  both  to  the  world  of  matter  and  to  the 
world  of  spirit,  to  the  present  and  the  future.  Janus, 
the  two-faced  gate-god  of  Rome,  protected  the  gates 
and  doors  of  his  worshipers,  even  as  the  cherubim  of 
Eden,  with  a  flaming  sword  which  "  turned  every  way," 
kept  the  way  of  the  tree  of  life.  Let  conscience,  then, 
the  presiding  monitor  that  looks  within  as  well  as 
without,  guard  well  the  physical  senses,  the  royal 
gateways  of  the  sacred  temple  of  the  soul,  that  no 


JANUS,   THE   ROMAN    GATE-GOD.  17 

impure  thought  or  unworthy  desire  may  enter  to  defile 
it. 

The  gates  of  the  temple  of  Janus  were  open  while  the 
Roman  people  were  at  war,  expanding  their  territory 
and  extending  their  power.  They  were  kept  open  until 
the  campaigns  were  ended  and  peace  had  been  restored. 
So,  also,  during  the  warfare  of  life,  while  battling  for 
the  right  against  the  hosts  of  ignorance  and  error; 
while  striving  for  the  increase  of  knowledge  and  the 
growth  of  moral  and  spiritual  force,  swing  open  all 
the  gates  of  the  temple  of  the  soul  and  let  them  be 
kept  open,  never  to  be  closed,  until  the  last  enemy  shall 
have  been  conquered,  and  peace  at  last  shall  reign. 


II.     THE  STUDENT'S  DIVIDENDS. 

WHEN  men  establish  an  institution  for  business 
enterprise,  the  end  in  view  is  profit.  Time,  labor,  and 
capital  are  combined  for  the  purpose  of  gain.  The 
successful  business  corporation  is  one  that  is  so  man- 
aged as  to  bring  the  greatest  possible  returns  to  the 
shareholders.  The  index  to  its  success  is  the  dividend 
declared.  The  dividends  received  by  the  shareholders 
are  always  determined  by  two  fundamental  facts:  the 
successful  operation  of  the  business  of  the  firm  or  cor- 
poration, and  the  amount  invested  by  each  individual 
stockholder.  If  the  institution  has  been  successful, 
and  has  made  any  gains  in  its  business,  the  amount 
received  by  each  individual  shareholder  depends  upon 
the  investment,  the  amount  he  has  put  into  the  busi- 
ness. 

This  school,  with  its  nearly  four  hundred  students,  is 
an  institution  organized  for  special  work  and  for  the 
benefit  of  all  those  who  are  shareholders.  Though  its 
business  is  conducted  for  profit,  its  gains  cannot  be 
computed  in  dollars  and  cents.  The  capital  stock  of 
this  institution  includes  a  great  deal  more  than  the 

18 


THE  STUDENT'S  DIVIDENDS.  19 

money  investment  represented  by  building  and  equip- 
ment. It  includes  the  time  and  the  work  that  each  one 
of  you  invests  daily;  it  includes  the  brain  and  heart 
powers  of  your  teachers;  it  includes  assistance  of 
parents  and  friends,  and  the  encouragement  and  good- 
will of  all  good  people  in  the  community  and  the  state. 
Remember  that,  in  this  institution,  each  one  of  you  is 
a  shareholder.  The  city  and  the  state  are  likewise 
shareholders  and,  through  you,  have  a  right  to  share 
in  the  profits. 

The  question  I  wish  to  press  home  to  each  one  of  you 
this  morning  is  an  important  one :  What  do  you  get  out 
of  the  high  school  ?  What  profits  do  you  get  from  the 
business  in  which  you  are  engaged?  What  dividends 
do  you  receive  from  your  investment?  What  is  your 
investment  in  the  high  school?  Your  time?  Yes. 
"  Time  is  money,"  we  are  told ;  and  if  you  stop  a  minute 
to  compute  the  market  value  of  your  time  invested 
in  the  high  school,  you  will  find  it  an  important 
item.  What  is  your  time  worth  per  day?  Sup- 
pose that  the  entire  school  is  capable  of  earning 
daily  an  average  of  only  fifty  cents  per  pupil. 
Then  the  time  value  of  the  high  school  is  two 
hundred  dollars  per  day,  one  thousand  dollars  per 
week,  four  thousand  dollars  per  month.  Import- 
ant as  this  time  investment  is  to  each  of  you,  it  is 


20  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

the  lowest  view  that  can  be  taken  of  your  inter- 
est in  the  school.  Does  each  student  get  from  the 
high  school  adequate  returns  for  the  time  invested? 
If  you  are  here  to  invest  nothing  but  your  time, 
your  dividends  will  not  be  worth  mentioning.  To 
get  adequate  returns,  you  must  put  into  the  busi- 
ness your  best  efforts.  You  must  put  in  love 
of  work,  diligent  application,  concentrated  attention. 
You  must  put  in  daily  the  exercise  of  your  best  intel- 
lectual and  moral  powers  and  the  practice  of  your 
highest  conceptions  of  right  and  duty.  In  return  for 
an  investment  like  this,  what  benefits  may  the  stu- 
dent rightly  expect?  What  does  the  school  endeavor 
to  give. 

The  first  measurable  benefit  the  school  aims  to  give 
the  pupil  is  an  increase  of  power.  Everybody  strives 
for  power  in  some  form  and  in  some  direction.  Many 
a  man  strives  for  the  power  that  comes  through  the 
possession  of  wealth ;  but  that  kind  of  power  is  outside 
the  man,  not  a  part  of  him.  If  he  loses  the  wealth,  he 
loses  the  power.  Many  a  man  strives  for  the  power 
that  fashion  and  social  leadership  give ;  but  such  power 
is  not  real  or  intrinsic.  Another  seeks  power  through 
official  position;  but  this,  again,  is  temporary  and 
external.  Too  many,  indeed,  strive  to  possess  instru- 
mentalities of  power  that  are  fleeting  and  unsubstan- 


THE  STUDENT'S  DIVIDENDS.  21 

tial — means  of  power  that  are  entirely  outside  their 
own  personality. 

The  power  that  the  high  school  aims  to  give  you  is 
not  something  apart  from  your  real  self,  but  a  con- 
scious capacity  and  an  inherent  strength  which  you  can 
never  lose  in  the  lottery  of  life.  This  power  includes 
ability  to  make  money,  but  it  comprehends  much  more. 
It  includes  ability  to  discharge  the  duties  of  official 
position  and  the  functions  of  social  or  political  leader- 
ship, but  is  not  limited  to  any  single  channel.  Elec- 
trical energy  may  be  converted  into  light,  heat,  sound, 
or  motor  power,  at  will.  So  with  mental  and  moral 
power :  it  is  convertible  at  will  into  a  thousand  agencies 
for  the  benefit  of  the  individual  and  of  the  world.  This 
power  includes  mastery  of  the  field  of  knowledge; 
power  to  know,  and  to  acquire  information.  It  re- 
quires a  knowledge  of  science  and  mathematics,  lan- 
guage and  literature,  history  and  politics,  music  and 
art.  But  this  is  not  all.  Mere  knowledge  is  not  power. 
Mere  information  is  not  dynamic.  You  must  have 
power  to  think,  to  reason  for  yourself.  Real  thinking 
is  a  difficult  task ;  it  is  a  power  that  must  be  developed 
by  continued,  persistent  exercise.  But  it  is  not  enough 
for  the  educated  man  to  have  intellectual  power;  he 
must  have  also  power  to  do;  he  must  have  skill  in 
applying  his  knowledge  to  the  conditions  that  surround 


22  OLD   TALES  AND   MODERN   IDEALS. 

him  in  the  home  and  in  civil  and  social  life.  Doing  is 
the  proof  of  knowing;  execution  is  the  test  of  skill. 
The  test  of  your  knowledge  of  an  algebraic  problem  is 
the  solution ;  of  a  geometrical  proposition,  the  demon- 
stration; of  Latin  construction,  the  correct  transla- 
tion; of  good  English,  correct  writing  and  speaking. 
The  test  of  right  thinking  and  right  feeling  is  right 
action.  It  is  not  enough  to  know  the  rules  of  polite- 
ness and  good  manners ;  the  test  is  found  in  the  doing. 
It  is  not  enough  to  feel  kindly  and  sympathetically 
towards  the  weak,  the  helpless,  and  the  afflicted.  Kind 
feelings  and  sympathetic  emotions  that  are  not  em- 
bodied in  words  or  deeds  recoil  upon  themselves  and 
harden  the  heart  of  the  possessor.  This  power  which 
the  high  school  aims  to  give  to  each  one  of  you  includes 
the  power  to  feel,  to  sympathize,  and  to  express  that 
feeling  and  sympathy  in  the  daily  work  of  life.  It 
includes  self-control  and  self-direction.  The  power  to 
master  self,  to  acquire  dominion  over  those  passions 
and  prejudices  that  lie  within  your  own  breasts — this 
is  the  highest  form  of  power  you  can  obtain  by  the 
processes  of  education. 

But  power  is  not  the  sole  index  of  culture.  Mis- 
directed power  may  prove  a  curse  to  its  possessor.  It 
is  the  aim  of  the  high  school  to  develop  the  affections 
and  the  emotions;  to  develop  love  for  the  good,  the 


THE  STUDENT'S  DIVIDENDS.  23 

true,  the  beautiful.  The  cultured  man  not  only  knows, 
but  loves,  the  good  in  nature  and  in  art,  in  thought  and 
in  action.  Any  work  in  which  the  heart  is  not  em- 
ployed becomes  dreary  drudgery.  The  young  man  that 
sighs  at  the  very  thought  of  the  task  assigned  him  has 
no  joy  in  his  work.  There  is  no  sadder  picture  to  me 
than  that  of  a  whole  class  of  young  people  who  come 
to  school  under  compulsion,  who  go  through  their  tasks 
under  compulsion,  and  who  look  upon  their  teachers 
as  heartless  task-masters.  Their  school  life  is  joyless, 
because  intellect  and  desire  are  working  at  cross- 
purposes.  To  the  healthy,  normal  mind,  there  is  joy 
in  work,  and  pleasure  in  exercise.  The  healthy  mind 
rejoices  in  the  mastery  of  difficult  problems;  it  is  the 
weak  and  impotent  that  frets  and  sighs  and  groans. 
The  high  school  aims  to  make  you  happy  in  your  work, 
to  give  you  joy  in  every  lesson.  A  joyless  task  is  poorly 
done,  and  a  heartless  student  will  accomplish  but  little. 
Put  thought  into  your  work,  and  let  love  for  study 
stimulate  your  activity. 

The  high  school  aims  also  to  give  you  confidence  in 
your  mental  powers.  What  others  by  work  have  done, 
you  may  achieve.  Have  faith  in  yourself.  Depend- 
ence upon  others  undermines  self-reliance  and  weakens 
your  faith  in  self.  In  proportion  as  you  progress  in 
the  attainment  of  true  culture,  you  will  grow  in  faith 


24  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

— faith  in  yourself,  faith  in  your  fellow-men,  and  faith 
in  God,  the  author  of  all  truth  and  all  beauty,  the  sum 
and  inspiration  of  all  wisdom.  And,  lastly,  the  high 
school  aims  to  give  you  true  ideals  of  life;  yes,  it  aims 
to  give  you  life  itself.  It  is  not  enough  that  you  simply 
prepare  here  for  ife.  Let  your  school  life  be  real  life, 
in  its  fullness  and  its  richness,  its  joy  and  its  sweetness. 
Reap  now  the  dividends  within  your  reach;  power, 
love,  faith,  and  life  itself.  Do  you  remember  the  old 
story  of  Pygmalion  and  Galatea?  Pygmalion  was  a 
youth  of  ancient  Greece  who  thought  none  of  the 
Grecian  maidens  beautiful.  He  could  not  love,  because 
none  reached  his  ideal  of  beauty.  The  life  of  the  youth 
was  loveless  and  joyless;  and  he  lost  faith  in  himself, 
in  human-kind,  and  in  the  very  gods.  In  his  lonely 
abode,  he  began  to  chisel  from  the  marble  the  statue 
of  a  woman.  As  he  continued  to  work,  his  ideal  devel- 
oped ;  "  as  the  marble  wasted,  the  image  grew."  The 
more  he  worked,  the  more  he  loved  the  image  he  was 
creating  from  the  heart  of  the  marble.  When  the 
statue  was  completed,  it  was  Pygmalion's  ideal  of  a 
beautiful  woman.  He  loved  it,  he  adored  it;  bnt  it 
was  only  the  cold,  lifeless  marble  upon  which  he 
lavished  his  affections.  Then  he  prayed  to  the  goddess 
of  beauty  to  give  life  to  the  statue  he  loved,  that  he 
might  truly  possess  his  own  creation.  His  prayer  was 


THE  STUDENT'S  DIVIDENDS.  25 

heard;  and  Galatea  sprang  into  life,  the  realization  in 
face  and  figure  of  his  dream  of  beauty. 

If  your  education  is  to  culminate  in  life;  if  your 
culture  is  to  be  truly  possessed  as  a  part  of  yourself, 
you  must  create  it  for  yourself ;  you  must  chisel  it  out 
of  the  lifeless  material  you  find  in  nature  and  in  books. 
Your  power  must  form,  your  heart  must  love,  your 
faith  must  inspire. 

To  this  end,  then,  do  you  individually  and  as  a  whole 
work  together — to  the  development  of  power  condi- 
tioned in  the  possession  of  knowledge,  enthusiasm,  con- 
fidence, and  true  ideals.  And  if,  in  this  business,  all 
cooperate,  great  will  be  the  dividends. 


III.     THE    CHOICE    OF   SOLOMON. 

"  Ask  what  I  shall  give  thee." — %  Chron.  i.  7. 

AT  the  beginning  of  his  public  career,  Solomon  was 
in  deep  perplexity.  He  was  a  young  man,  with  limited 
experience  of  life,  brought  for  the  first  time  to  consider 
seriously  the  obligations  entailed  by  his  position.  He 
had  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  his  illustrious  father; 
and  as  he  surveyed  the  great  work  before  him,  he  was 
overwhelmed  with  the  sense  of  responsibility.  In  this 
state  of  serious  reflection,  with  the  burdens  of  a  king- 
dom weighing  upon  his  mind,  he  went  up  to  the  taber- 
nacle of  God  at  Gibeon,  to  worship.  There  God 
appeared  unto  him  in  a  vision  and  said  unto  him: 
"Ask  what  I  shall  give  thee."  That  is  the  supreme 
moment  in  the  life  of  the  young  monarch.  Upon  the 
choice  he  now  makes  hangs  not  only  his  own  future, 
but  the  destiny  of  a  great  nation.  What  shall  he  ask? 
A  whole  realm  of  possibilities  opens  up  before  him. 
Shall  he  ask  for  wealth  and  riches,  for  a  long  life  of 
ease  and  pleasure?  Shall  he  ask  for  honor  and  power 
and  glory  among  the  kings  and  rulers  of  the  earth? 

26 


THE    CHOICE   OF    SOLOMON.  27 

Shall  he  ask  for  victory  over  his  enemies  and  for  the 
expansion  of  his  imperial  domain  by  military  conquest? 
All  these  alluring  possibilities  might  be  included  in  the 
dream  of  an  ambitious  young  monarch;  all  might  be 
considered  legitimate  aspirations  for  a  king.  But 
Solomon  chose  none  of  them.  After  considering  the 
entire  field,  he  consulted  his  own  greatest  need  and 
preferred  the  modest  request :  "  Give  me  now  wisdom 
and  knowledge,  that  I  may  go  out  and  come  in  before 
this  people."  "  And  God  said  to  Solomon,  because 
this  was  in  thine  heart,  and  thou  hast  not  asked  riches 
or  honor,  or  the  life  of  thine  enemies,  neither  yet  hast 
asked  long  life,  but  hast  asked  wisdom  and  knowledge 
for  thyself,  that  thou  mayest  judge  my  people,  over 
whom  I  have  made  thee  king;  wisdom  and  knowledge 
is  granted  unto  thee,  and  I  will  give  thee  riches  and 
wealth  and  honor,  such  as  none  of  the  kings  have  had 
that  have  been  before  thee,  neither  shall  there  any  after 
thee  have  the  like." 

This  significant  and  far-reaching  choice  of  Solomon 
is  beautifully  paralleled  in  Greek  mythology  by  the 
choice  of  Hercules.  As  the  youthful  hero  stood  upon 
the  threshold  of  life,  uncertain  as  to  the  course  he 
should  take,  he  was  accosted  by  two  beautiful  women 
representing  Vice  and  Virtue.  Each  offered  her  ser- 
vices as  his  guide  and  counselor;  each  demanded  his 


28  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

allegiance  and  insisted  that  he  should  immediately 
choose  which  he  preferred  to  follow.  Vice,  enchant- 
ingly  beautiful  to  the  eye,  promised  him  riches  and 
luxury,  love  and  pleasure,  if  he  would  but  follow  her. 
Virtue  urged  him  to  accept  her  as  his  guide,  but  warned 
him  that  in  her  wake  he  would  be  obliged  to  wage 
incessant  war  against  evil,  to  endure  hardships  without 
number  and  to  suffer  toil  and  privation  for  the  sake  of 
making  the  world  better  and  life  richer  for  millions 
of  mortals.  She  promised,  as  his  reward,  an  immor- 
tality of  fame  on  earth  and  a  final  abode  with  Jupiter 
on  high  Olympus.  After  pondering  awhile  in  silence 
over  these  two  dissimilar  offers,  Hercules  turned  to 
Virtue  and  declared  himself  ready  to  follow  her  guid- 
ance and  to  obey  whatever  command  she  might  choose 
to  give  him. 

These  two  stories,  one  from  Sacred  history  and  the 
other  from  heathen  mythology,  may  be  regarded  as  the 
most  significant  and  suggestive  in  all  literature.  The 
name  of  Solomon  has  come  down  the  ages  as  the 
synonym  of  wisdom;  and  that  of  Hercules  still  sym- 
bolizes physical  strength  and  the  application  of  the 
powers  of  nature  to  the  destruction  of  the  evil  that  is 
found  in  the  world.  In  its  broadest  sense,  the  choice 
of  Solomon  includes  that  of  Hercules.  The  twelve 
labors  of  Hercules  symbolize  the  progress  of  humanity 


THE    CHOICE   OP    SOLOMON.  29 

in  overcoming  physical  obstacles;  the  wisdom  of  Solo- 
mon includes  the  mental  and  spiritual  conquests  of  the 
race.  The  greater  includes  the  lesser.  "Wisdom  is  a 
tree  of  life  to  them  that  lay  hold  of  her;  and  happy  is 
every  one  that  retaineth  her." 

Some  one  has  truly  said  that  life  is  endurable  only 
in  the  atmosphere  of  possibility.  The  great  charm  of 
existence,  to  young  men  and  young  women,  lies  in  the 
fact  that  all  the  chances  of  fortune  and  all  the  possi- 
bilities of  human  achievement  lie  before  them  and  are 
not  beyond  the  scope  of  realization.  Much  of  the 
pleasure  of  youth  is  found  in  dreams  of  future  joy  or 
greatness.  As  we  advance  in  years,  the  possibilities 
of  life  naturally  become  fewer ;  the  chances  of  winning 
fame  or  fortune  gradually  diminish,  until  old  age,  at 
last,  finds  its  greatest  pleasure  in  retrospect.  The 
charm  of  youth  lies  in  the  possibilities  of  the  future; 
the  charm  of  old  age  lies  in  the  achievements  of  the 
past. 

Each  one  of  you,  my  young  friends,  is  confronted 
this  morning  with  the  complex  possibilities  of  one  life- 
time; and  each  one  of  you  is  given  an  opportunity  to 
choose.  We  may  say  what  we  will  about  the  influence 
of  heredity ;  we  may  talk  glibly  of  the  force  of  circum- 
stances and  environment.  We  still  have  the  power  to 
choose  our  line  of  conduct  and  to  shape  the  conditions 


30  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

of  our  life.  This  is  the  first  lesson  we  are  taught  by 
the  two  stories  I  have  selected.  To  every  one  God 
appears  in  some  vision,  in  some  moment  of  illumination 
or  of  spiritual  insight,  and  gives  him  the  opportunity 
to  choose.  He  says  to  each  of  you  today,  "  Ask  what 
I  shall  give  thee." 

Choose.  It  was  never  intended  that  you  should  be 
passive  spectators  in  the  drama  of  life.  You  must 
make  an  active  choice,  a  positive  election.  Jesus  said 
to  his  followers,  "  Ask  and  ye  shall  receive ;  seek  and 
ye  shall  find."  And  even  of  the  Pharisees  and  hypo- 
crites, he  said,  "  They  also  receive  their  reward."  What 
people  ask  for  with  all  the  earnest  intensity  of  the 
soul  they  generally  receive.  Those  who  set  their  hearts 
upon  one  object  in  life  and  sacrifice  all  else  for  its 
attainment  are  very  apt  to  realize  it.  If  it  is  a  base 
object,  all  of  life's  powers  and  energies  are  brought 
down  to  the  level  of  that  object,  and  life  itself  becomes 
base.  If  the  object  is  high  and  noble,  all  of  life  is 
enriched  and  ennobled.  Choose  then  the  best,  the 
greatest  thing  in  the  universe — that  wisdom  which 
perisheth  not  and  that  virtue  which  shall  shine  forever. 
Your  choice  may  not  be  framed  in  words;  the  real 
desire  of  the  soul  is  expressed  in  your  attitude  towards 
work  and  in  the  spirit  of  your  daily  conduct.  If  I 
were  to  translate  the  choice  of  many  young  people  into 


THE   CHOICE   OF   SOLOMON.  31 

words,  it  would  read,  "  God  grant  me  ease  and  pleas- 
ure; save  me  from  all  hard  work  and  give  me  a  good 
time."  These  young  people  may  attend  school  or  col- 
lege, they  may  appear  to  seek  wisdom;  but  their  real 
choice  is  unmistakable.  When  they  enter  school,  they 
study  the  curriculum  in  order  to  select  the  easiest 
course.  The  curriculum  of  life  has  many  courses. 
How  many  people  there  are  who  elect  the  course  that 
promises  the  least  amount  of  work !  They  forget  that 
all  of  life  is  not  easy;  that  in  every  life  there  are  tragic 
moments  which  require  the  severest  discipline  to  en- 
dure, and  obstacles  which  require  the  trained  powers 
of  the  soul  to  overcome.  Many  ask  for  wealth — 
wealth  for  its  own  sake  or  as  an  instrument  of  pleasure 
or  power,  a  means  for  the  gratification  of  pride  and 
ambition.  Others  seek  honor  and  glory  by  social  dis- 
tinction or  political  position,  forgetting  that  such 
honor  is  temporary  and  that  such  glory  soon  fades 
away.  True  wisdom  means  the  highest  development  of 
the  human  soul — the  highest  intellectual,  moral,  and 
spiritual  culture.  Those  young  people  who  ask  for 
wisdom  need  not  announce  the  fact  in  words;  their 
conduct  tells  the  story.  They  do  not  work  for  praise 
or  glory,  for  marks  or  honors.  They  do  not  work 
under  compulsion,  nor  from  a  sense  of  duty  or  obliga- 
tion, but  from  a  deep  soul-desire,  and  for  the  life  of 


32  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS.          * 

service  for  which  school  work  is  a  preparation.  The 
young  man  who  seeks  merely  to  do  his  duty,  to  do  only 
that  which  he  is  obliged  to  do,  comes  far  short  of  his 
privilege.  Men  deserve  no  credit  for  doing  only  what 
duty  and  obligation  prescribe.  Credit  begins  when,  in 
the  spirit  of  love  for  the  work,  one  goes  beyond  mere 
duty;  when  the  heart's  desire,  the  real  hunger  for 
culture,  is  so  intense  that  labor  becomes  spontaneous 
service. 

Solomon  chose  wisdom,  and  in  addition,  received 
wealth  and  honor  and  glory  and  a  long  life.  "  Length 
of  days  is  in  her  right  hand,  and  in  her  left  hand  riches 
and  honor."  True  wisdom  includes  all  else  that  is 
good  and  needful.  "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God, 
and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you." 


IV.  LAUGHTER  AN  INDEX  OF  CHARACTER. 

"  How  much  lies  in  laughter,  the  cipher-key  wherewith  we  deci- 
pher the  whole  man  ! " — Carlyle, 

"Nothing  is  more  significant  of  men's  character  than  what  they 
find  laughable." — Goethe. 

LAUGHTER  is  characteristic  of  man  alone.  The  lower 
animals  may  share  with  him  the  possession  of  many 
traits;  they  may  have  similar  physical  structures  and 
similar  appetites;  they  may  exhibit  a  degree  of  intelli- 
gence that  marvelously  approaches  human  reason,  and 
manifest  by  their  actions  definite  emotional  tones 
which  we  readily  interpret,  in  terms  of  our  own  mental 
states,  as  pain  and  pleasure,  joy  and  sorrow,  happiness 
and  distress.  But  man,  and  man  only,  has  the  power 
to  laugh. 

I  have  no  sympathy  with  those  who  would  condemn  a 
good,  hearty  laugh.  It  is  sunshine  in  the  home  and  in 
the  world.  He  who  cannot  enjoy  a  laugh  is  an  abnor- 
mal man  and  suffers  from  a  diseased  organism.  A 
bright,  happy,  genuine  laugh  is  a  tonic  to  the  individual 
and  cleanses  the  atmosphere  of  the  germs  of  social 
malaria.  A  good  laugh  is  both  a  therapeutic  and  a 

33 


34  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

prophylactic;  it  not  only  restores,  but  also  preserves 
physical  and  mental  health. 

The  lesson  I  would  impress  upon  you  this  morning 
is  the  fact  that  laughter  is  an  important  index  to 
character;  it  is  the  involuntary  expression  of  the  real 
man  or  woman.  We  judge  other  people  almost  uncon- 
sciously by  a  variety  of  little  signs.  Some  people  say 
that  they  read  human  nature  intuitively.  They  are 
simply  good  interpreters  of  signs.  Everything  you 
have,  everything  you  say,  and  everything  you  do,  is  a 
sign  of  character,  an  index  to  some  trait  or  peculiarity. 
You  see  a  stranger  for  the  first  time;  you  can  tell  but 
little  of  his  disposition  or  true  character.  You  observe 
his  eyes,  his  features,  his  walk,  his  gestures;  yet  you 
know  but  little  of  him.  You  hear  his  voice  and  listen 
to  his  words;  then  you  think  you  know  him  better. 
But  when  you  hear  him  laugh,  you  feel  that  you  have 
heard  the  involuntary  expression  of  his  soul.  The 
laugh  is  the  "  cipher-key,"  as  Carlyle  calls  it,  to  the 
man's  inner  life.  It  is  quite  obvious  that  the  manner 
in  which  you  laugh  gives  other  people  an  opportunity 
to  judge  your  culture  and  your  politeness.  Every 
laugh,  from  the  sweet,  spiritual  ripple  of  gracious  sym- 
pathy, through  its  various  modifications,  down  to  the 
rude  guffaw  of  boorish  ignorance  or  the  stentorian  out- 
burst of  uncontrolled  animal  pleasure,  is  an  involun- 


LAUGHTER   AN    INDEX    OF    CHARACTER.  35 

tary  expression  of  the  man  behind  it.  The  manner  in 
which  you  laugh  reveals  your  inner  self:  whether  it  be 
tainted  with  sneer  or  sarcasm,  malice  or  revenge,  satire 
or  mockery,  conceal  it,  disguise  it  as  you  will,  the  sting 
is  still  there  and  the  poison  cannot  be  mistaken. 

But  there  is  another  way  in  which  laughter  may  be 
regarded  as  an  index  of  character.  Goethe  expressed 
a  great  truth  when  he  said,  "  Nothing  is  more  signifi- 
cant of  men's  character  than  what  they  find  laugh- 
able." How  you  laugh  may  be  important,  but  what 
you  laugh  at  is  far  more  important  as  an  index  to  what 
you  really  are.  Have  you  ever  felt  mortified  in  com- 
pany, by  suddenly  finding  yourself  laughing  im- 
moderately at  something  that  had  been  said  or  done, 
while  the  rest  of  the  company  were  serious  and  un- 
moved? The  difference  is  subjective;  it  is  a  difference 
in  the  culture  and  the  character  of  the  individuals. 

Every  laugh  is  a  judgment  upon  the  character  of  the 
one  who  laughs.  Many  people,  when  they  laugh,  un- 
consciously tell  us  their  secret  opinion  of  themselves. 
Young  people  too  often  imagine  that  they  understand 
clearly  the  motives  and  even  the  secrets  of  other  people, 
and  that  their  own  are  completely  disguised.  They 
forget  that,  whenever  they  laugh,  they  proclaim  their 
most  secret  thoughts  by  an  unmistakable  sign  to  all 
who  choose  to  observe;  they  forget  that  every  smile  is 


36  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

a  soul-revealer,  that  every  laugh  is  a  self-judgment. 
If  young  people  who  covet  the  good  opinion  of  others 
fully  realized  this  fact,  they  would  be  more  careful  of 
their  laughter  in  school,  in  church,  on  the  street,  and  in 
public  gatherings. 

"  Loud  laughter,"  says  Chesterfield,  "  is  the  mirth 
of  the  mob,  who  are  only  pleased  with  silly  things;  it 
is  the  characteristic  of  folly  and  ill-manners."  It  is 
too  often  the  case  that  the  more  silly  the  cause,  the 
louder  the  laughter  and  the  longer.  Have  you  ever 
heard  the  loud,  inane,  empty,  ill-timed  laugh  that 
seems  to  be  without  cause  and  without  occasion? 
Have  you  ever  heard  what  Goldsmith  describes  as  "  The 
loud  laugh  that  spoke  the  vacant  mind"?  Such  a 
laugh  usually  bespeaks  either  the  thoughtlessness  of  an 
empty  pate  or  an  inherent  weakness  that  excites  our 
pity.  Such  laughter  is  as  harmless  as  it  is  pitiable. 
Similar  to  this  is  the  hysterical  and  meaningless  laugh 
of  those  who  laugh  only  because  others  laugh,  or  be- 
cause they  do  not  know  what  else  to  do.  They  may 
feel  sad  at  heart  and  laugh  only  to  keep  from  crying. 
In  such  a  case,  the  laughter  either  is  without  cause,  or 
is  a  substituted  effect,  an  unnatural  expression  of  a 
nervous  and  disordered  organism.  Then  again,  we 
have  the  familiar  type  of  laugh  known  as  the  "  giggle." 
The  "  giggling  "  school-girl  or  school-boy  is  simply  the 


LAUGHTER    AN    INDEX    OF    CHARACTER.  37 

subject  of  organic  nervous  disorder,  an  example  of  lack 
of  self-control.  It  is  a  species  of  laughter  excited,  not 
by  a  sense  of  humor,  but  by  causes  largely  within  the 
organism  itself,  for  which  the  laugher  should  not  be 
held  strictly  responsible. 

At  lecture  or  play,  people  applaud  what  they  ap- 
prove. So,  in  the  class  room  or  in  company,  your 
laughter  signifies  your  recognition,  and  usually  your 
approbation.  It  matters  little  what  is  said  in  your 
presence;  you  cannot  control  that.  It  matters  much, 
however,  what  kind  of  reception  you  give  it;  that  is 
entirely  within  your  own  control.  A  pupil  makes  an 
unfortunate  mistake  in  recitation.  There  is  some  one 
void  of  respect  and  sympathy,  who  is  ready  to  laugh. 
That  laugh  may  or  may  not  confuse  the  victim;  but  it 
reveals  the  cruel,  unsympathetic  heart  of  him  who 
laughs.  Some  one,  by  accident,  drops  a  word  or  a 
phrase  that,  by  distortion,  may  suggest  a  vulgar 
thought;  that  coarse  snicker  or  loud  guffaw  locates 
unmistakably  the  distorted  mind  that  received  it.  In 
the  daily  occurrences  of  any  school,  innumerable  inci- 
dents will  give  opportunity  for  evil  and  impurity  to 
find  expression  in  the  laugh  of  familiar  recognition. 
Scarcely  a  day  will  pass  that  does  not  illustrate  the 
adage,  "  To  the  pure,  all  things  are  pure,"  as  well  as 
"  Evil  to  him  who  evil  thinks."  The  vulgar  word  or 


38  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

coarse  suggestion  does  not  affect  the  pure-minded. 
But  to  the  foul  mind,  it  is  a  fuse  that  connects  with  a 
mine  of  dangerous  and  inflammable  thoughts;  and  the 
loud,  explosive  laugh  that  follows  proclaims  the  fact 
that  the  connection  has  been  made.  It  tells  the  whole 
story.  Every  laugh  of  this  kind  is  your  self-condem- 
nation, your  own  revelation  of  your  secret  thoughts 
and  desires.  It  is  a  judgment  passed  by  yourself. 
"  Judge  not  that  ye  be  not  judged."  The  self-respect- 
ing man  who  values  the  purity  of  his  heart  will  turn 
away  in  disgust  from  story-mongers  who  retail  filth  in 
vulgar  jest,  rather  than  give  the  stamp  of  his  approving 
laugh  to  filth  and  impurity.  The  thing  you  find  laugh- 
able is  an  index  to  your  character. 

We  find  also  the  mocking,  irreverent  laugh.  He  who 
laughs  at  sacred  things  and  makes  mockery  of  religious 
creeds,  sacred  to  thousands  of  souls,  may  not  modify 
the  creed  or  affect  the  believer ;  but  he  indicates  clearly 
his  own  blindness  and  narrowness.  The  thing  he 
laughs  at  reveals  his  prejudice  and  his  bigotry.  A 
laugh  is  a  very  simple  thing,  but  profoundly  expres- 
sive. When  used  as  an  instrument  for  pain,  it  may 
express  the  whole  gamut  of  the  malevolent  affections, 
from  the  coarsest  and  most  savage  to  the  most  refined 
in  cruelty.  When  devoted  to  the  service  of  love  and 
friendship,  it  may  sweep  the  entire  range  of  the  nobler 


LAUGHTER   AN    INDEX    OF    CHARACTER.  39 

emotions.  Laughter,  as  an  instrument  of  the  soul,  is 
often  more  effective  than  words  in  inflicting  pain  or 
conveying  pleasure.  Let  not  your  laughter  be  the  in- 
strument of  pain;  let  it  not  become  a  winged  shaft 
dipped  in  the  poison  of  malice  and  hatred.  There  is  a 
world-wide  difference  between  laughing  at  a  person  and 
laughing  with  him. 

Robert  Burdette,  the  famous  humorist  and  lecturer, 
maintains  that  all  humor  has  its  origin  in  pain.  This 
seems  a  paradox,  but  it  is  probably  true.  The  Indian 
is  generally  supposed  to  be  devoid  of  the  sense  of 
humor.  He  is  grim-visaged  and  never  laughs,  we  are 
told.  But  if  he  could  be  observed  as  he  engages  in  the 
war-dance,  around  some  hapless  pale-face  that  is  being 
tortured  or  scalped,  it  would  be  seen  that  his  hilarity 
is  immeasurable,  and  that  his  laughter  knows  no 
bounds.  The  Indian  never  laughs  except  in  the  pres- 
ence of  physical  pain :  it  requires  the  dying  groans  of 
his  victim  to  excite  his  humor.  In  the  most  primitive 
stages  of  humor,  pain  is  an  essential  factor.  A  man 
on  the  sidewalk  slips  on  a  banana  peel,  and  everybody 
laughs.  If  the  man  falls  and  is  seriously  hurt,  those 
who  laughed  a  moment  since  now  rush  to  his  assistance. 
The  first  action,  the  laugh  at  the  man's  embarrassing 
situation,  is  the  relic  of  the  savage  impulse  in  us  all,  a 
faint  echo  of  the  Indian's  cruel  humor;  the  second 


40  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

action,  the  proffer  of  sympathy  and  help,  is  the  effect 
of  kindness  and  humanity.  Too  many  men  and  boys 
find  enjoyment  in  brutality  and  amuse  themselves  by 
inflicting  pain.  Their  greatest  "  fun  "  is  found  in  the 
torture  of  some  hapless  victim,  dumb  or  human.  The 
"  tin  can  tied  to  a  dog's  tail "  process  is  as  laughable 
to  the  boy  as  the  scalping  process  is  to  the  Indian. 
The  two  processes  as  sources  of  fun  are  the  same  in 
kind;  the  difference  is  only  in  degree.  In  both  cases, 
the  things  found  laughable  prove  the  perpetrators  to 
be  savages. 

True  humor  may  be  an  evolution  from  pain  and 
cruelty,  as  may  the  true  gentleman  of  today  be  an 
evolution  from  the  savage  or  cannibal  of  twenty  cen- 
turies ago ;  but  the  true  humor  of  today  should  have  as 
little  resemblance  to  cruelty  as  the  true  gentleman  of 
today  has  to  the  savage.  As  religion,  education,  and 
the  various  processes  of  civilization  transmute  the  sav- 
age into  the  ideal  gentleman,  they  should  change  also 
the  humor  of  pain  and  the  laughter  of  cruelty  into  an 
agency  of  sympathy  and  joy. 


V.    THE   PHILOSOPHY  OF  WANT. 

"And  he  began  to  be  in  want." — Lake  xv.  14. 

ALL  acquisition,  individual,  state,  or  national,  is 
governed  by  one  great  fundamental  law.  Underlying 
every  attainment,  every  success,  every  growth,  every 
progressive  step,  is  the  one  essential  condition  of  want. 
Without  want,  there  can  be  no  real  progress.  Beneath 
all  the  struggles  of  life,  we  find  want  of  some  kind. 
Men  and  women  in  their  various  pursuits  are  not  try- 
ing to  eliminate  their  wants,  but  to  satisfy  them. 
When  we  see  a  great  effort,  involving  a  long  and  ter- 
rible struggle,  we  know  there  must  be  behind  it  a  great 
persistent  want  to  be  satisfied.  Without  conscious 
want,  no  achievement  is  possible ;  no  success  is  attain- 
able. 

The  story  of  the  prodigal  son  is  very  suggestive. 
In  that  "  far  country,"  he  had  wasted  his  substance  in 
riotous  living;  he  had  spent  his  all,  and  we  are  told 
that  "  he  began  to  be  in  want."  This  was  the  first  step 
towards  the  satisfaction  of  his  real  needs,  the  first 
condition  of  his  return  to  his  father's  house. 

41 


42  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

Want  is  the  first  step  towards  attainment,  the  first 
condition  of  accomplishment.  Back  of  every  effort 
lies  a  sense  of  need,  a  conscious  want. 

The  philosophy  of  want  involves  four  important 
facts.  First,  the  essential  condition  of  achievement 
in  any  line  is  want.  Second,  the  character  of  the  need, 
the  direction  of  the  want,  indicates  the  direction  of  the 
achievement.  Third,  the  sense  of  want  increases  in 
proportion  to  the  extent  of  the  achievement.  Fourth, 
want  is  the  ultimate  measure  of  achievement. 

When  a  man  is  imbued  with  the  want  of  money,  he 
will  get  it.  If  he  has  a  deep-seated,  persistent,  over- 
powering want  in  that  direction,  he  will  devote  all  his 
talents,  all  his  physical  and  mental  energies  to  its 
attainment.  If  he  wants  money,  and  wants  it  so  in- 
tensely that  he  will  sacrifice  all  the  luxuries,  all  the 
comforts,  and  all  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  will  prosti- 
tute all  his  physical,  mental,  and  moral  energies  to 
its  possession,  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
become  as  rich  as  Croesus.  As  his  wealth  accumulates, 
his  desire  for  more  wealth  increases,  and  the  intensity 
of  his  want  is  the  measure  of  the  extent  of  his  pos- 
sessions. If  a  man  aspires  to  social  or  political  dis- 
tinction, his  success  will  depend  primarily  upon  the 
intensity  of  his  want.  If  he  wants  learning,  the  extent 
of  his  attainment  as  a  scholar  is  the  correct  index  to 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    WANT.  43 

the  intensity  of  his  want.  There  are,  doubtless,  other 
conditions  of  success,  but  all  depend  upon  this  primary 
condition.  The  man  who  wants  to  make  money  must 
know  the  conditions  of  trade  and  must  become  skilled 
in  the  various  methods  of  business.  He  must  know 
how.  There  are  hard  circumstances  and  adverse  con- 
ditions to  be  overcome.  Back  of  all  these  is  desire, 
subject  to  the  indomitable  "  I  will "  of  the  man  bent 
on  conquest.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  says  truly  that 
"  the  elect  are  those  who  will ;  the  non-elect  are  those 
who  won't." 

The  heroes  of  history  and  the  world's  benefactors  in 
all  the  ages  have  been  men  and  women  of  great  wants. 
Those  who  want  the  least  in  life  get  the  least.  Alexan- 
der the  Great's  desire  for  conquest  was  so  great  that, 
when  the  entire  world  had  become  subject  to  his 
dominion,  "  he  wept  for  more  worlds  to  conquer."  So 
intense  was  his  desire  for  conquest,  that,  it  is  said, 
he  died  of  disappointment  when  he  had  reached  the 
bounds  of  human  possibility.  Columbus  followed  the 
lead  of  an  unconquerable  desire  which  guided  him  to 
the  discovery  of  new  lands  beyond  the  seas.  Edison,  the 
"Wizard  of  Menlo  Park,"  is  stimulated  by  an  over- 
whelming want,  a  desire  to  conquer  the  mysterious 
realm  of  electrical  science ;  and  the  great  achievements 
that  will  make  his  name  immortal  among  men  consti- 


44  OLD   TALES    AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

tute  the  measure  of  his  want.  In  every  sphere  of  life, 
there  are  men  and  women  who  have  devoted  themselves 
to  the  cause  of  liberty,  religion,  and  human  progress; 
and  the  intensity  of  their  motives  may  be  read  in  their 
struggles  and  their  sacrifices.  Remember  that  the 
character  of  the  individual  want  determines  the  char- 
acter of  the  effort  and  the  achievement.  The  man  who 
wants  merely  money,  or  conquest,  or  notoriety,  is  on  a 
low  material  plane;  he  who  aspires  to  intellectual  and 
moral  excellence  stands  on  a  higher  plane  and  will  reap 
results  proportionate  to  his  want  and  on  the  plane  of 
his  desire. 

The  application  of  the  lesson  I  would  make  this 
morning  is  not  difficult.  Ask  yourselves  today  the 
simple  question,  "  What  is  my  greatest  want,  my  own 
dominant  desire  ? "  You  are  students  in  the  high 
school;  your  business  is  ostensibly  to  get  an  edu- 
cation. Do  you  really  and  earnestly  want  to  be 
educated?  Some  young  men  and  women  attend  school 
without  any  very  definite  purpose.  In  a  general  way, 
they  would  like  to  be  educated;  but  there  is  no  con- 
scious want,  no  burning  desire  for  attainment.  Their 
strongest  desire  may  be  to  have  a  "  good  time  " ;  all 
else  is  secondary.  There  are  others  whose  strong, 
steady  work  in  all  their  studies  is  an  indication  of  the 
want  and  the  will  which  require  the  sacrifice  of  ease, 


THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   WANT.  45 

pleasure,  and  personal  comfort.  Do  you  want  to  suc- 
ceed in  your  Latin?  If  your  want  is  intense  enough 
and  persistent  enough,  you  will  succeed.  Do  you  want 
to  master  your  algebra  or  geometry?  If  that  want  is 
genuine  and  becomes  dominant  enough  to  command 
your  time  and  the  concentration  of  all  your  powers, 
the  domain  of  mathematics  must  become  yours  by  the 
right  of  mental  conquest.  Your  work  in  any  recita- 
tion, your  accomplishment  in  any  subject  of  the  cur- 
riculum, is  an  index  to  the  weakness  or  the  strength 
of  your  want.  Before  there  can  be  a  masterful  "I 
will"  there  must  be  an  overpowering  " I  want."  There 
are  students  who  go  through  high  school  and  college 
to  please  parents  or  friends,  or  simply  because  it  is 
the  fashion.  There  is  no  intense,  persistent  desire  for 
personal  attainment,  no  seriously  felt  want  of  culture ; 
and,  in  consequence,  we  have  too  few  really  excellent 
scholars,  and  too  many  mediocre  ones.  Commonplace 
education  is  the  result  of  commonplace  wants  and  com- 
monplace educational  efforts.  There  are  too  many 
students  in  all  our  schools  who  are  still  living  in  that 
"  far  country,"  wasting  their  time  and  their  oppor- 
tunities in  "  riotous  living,"  who  have  not  yet  begun 
"  to  be  in  want "  of  intellectual  culture.  The  great 
law  that  want  is  the  essential  condition  of  attainment 
is  the  keynote  to  human  progress.  It  is  true  in  every 


46  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

plane  of  activity;  the  material,  commercial,  political, 
intellectual  and  moral  planes  alike.  Wherever  we  find 
no  want,  but  absolute  contentment,  we  find  no  growth. 
The  hope  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  advancement  of  the 
race  is  found  in  the  prevalence  of  "  divine  discontent " 
in  the  world.  When  we  find  an  individual,  a  city,  a 
state,  or  a  nation  that  is  satisfied  with  present  attain- 
ment and  past  effort,  there  is  little  hope  of  further 
development.  All  nature  proclaims  this  great  law. 
All  the  universe  is  a  system  of  wants  and  partial  satis- 
factions, so  adjusted  that  the  best  interest  of  every 
created  thing  is  subserved;  and  all  give  expression  to 
the  universal  law  of  development.  The  aspiration  of 
the  humblest  of  God's  creatures  for  higher  moral  attain- 
ment is  a  prayer  that  finds  its  answer  in  the  struggle 
for  a  purer,  better  life. 


VI.  A  LESSON  FROM  AN  OLD  ROMAN  COIN. 

"  Whose  is  this  image  and  superscription  ?  "—Matt.  xxii.  20. 

IN  one  of  the  most  obscure  streets  of  Rome  stands  a 
dilapidated  looking  building  where  old  Roman  coins 
are  burnished  and  prepared  for  the  market.  One  day, 
a  traveler  enters  this  building,  and  seeing  in  one  corner 
a  huge  pile  of  what  seem  to  be  fragments  of  brick  and 
cakes  of  dried  mud,  inquires  their  use.  He  is  much 
surprised  and  interested  when  informed  that  these  frag- 
ments of  burnt  clay  are  in  reality  valuable  gold  coins 
brought  from  the  ruins  of  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum. 
The  proprietor  of  the  establishment,  selecting  one  of 
these  mud  cakes,  hands  it  to  a  workman,  who  places  it 
in  a  rapidly  revolving  cylindrical  brush.  During  this 
process,  the  earthy  debris  which  forms  the  exterior 
crust  is  ground  away,  until  at  last  the  gold  within  has 
been  reached.  Touched  by  another  piece  of  metal,  it 
gives  forth  the  usual  clear,  metallic  sound.  There  can 
be  no  mistake:  it  is  pure  gold.  It  is  now  passed  on 
to  another  workman,  who  subjects  it  to  another  pro- 
cess. By  the  use  of  several  acids  and  the  application 

47 


48  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

of  a  series  of  cleansing  agents,  there  is  developed  in 
clear  outline  on  the  face  of  the  coin  the  image  of  a 
Caesar,  which  for  ages  had  been  obscured  by  the  ac- 
cumulated dross.  Still  another  process  brings  out  the 
superscription  about  the  image ;  and  at  last,  that  which 
but  a  little  while  before  seemed  merely  a  lump  of  com- 
mon clay  hardened  to  the  consistency  of  rock,  shines 
forth  in  the  sunlight,  the  current  coin  of  an  imperial 
realm,  representing  the  power  and  dominion  of  a  Caesar. 
This  story  of  an  old  Koman  coin  will  enable  us  to 
appreciate,  with  more  or  less  clearness,  the  matchless 
reply  of  Jesus  to  the  Pharisees  who  sought  to  entangle 
Him  with  questions.  "  Is  it  lawful  to  give  tribute  unto 
Caesar  or  not  ?  "  was  a  question  cleverly  conceived,  and 
involving  a  dilemma  from  which,  in  their  judgment, 
there  could  be  no  logical  escape.  An  affirmative 
answer  would  have  been  equivalent  to  an  abdication  of 
the  Kingdom  He  had  come  to  establish,  while  a  negative 
answer  would  have  given  them  the  coveted  opportunity 
to  proclaim  Him  a  traitor  to  the  Roman  power.  Hold- 
ing in  His  hand  a  Roman  coin,  He  asked,  "  Whose 
is  this  image  and  superscription?"  When  they  an- 
swered, "  Caesar's,"  He  replied :  "  Render  therefore  unto 
Caesar,  the  things  that  are  Caesar's,  and  unto  God,  the 
things  that  are  God's."  And  we  are  told  that  they 
marveled  at  His  doctrine. 


A    LESSON    FROM    AN    OLD    ROMAN    COIN.  49 

By  this  object  lesson,  the  Master  clearly  recognized 
the  two  phases  of  human  activity,  the  material  and 
the  mental.  The  duality  of  man  is  one  of  the  simplest 
and  most  commonplace  facts  of  experience,  but  one 
which  our  greatest  philosophers  cannot  explain.  Each 
of  you  knows  that,  through  the  senses,  you  are  aware 
of  the  great  illimitable  world  without,  which  you  call 
matter;  you  are  aware  also  of  another  incomprehen- 
sible world  within,  which  you  call  mind, — a  world  of 
knowledge  and  emotion,  of  reason  and  conscience, — a 
world  of  inner  experience  and  life  of  which  you  alone 
are  conscious.  What  matter  is,  or  what  mind  is,  we 
know  not;  but  we  do  know  that  both  are  involved  in 
our  earthly  life,  that  both  are  involved  in  the  processes 
of  education,  and  that  both  are  essential  factors  in  the 
development  of  individual  character  as  well  as  the 
advancement  of  civilization.  Jesus  was  no  ascetic. 
He  did  not  encourage  men  to  withdraw  from  the  duties 
of  the  material  world  to  engage  in  thought  and  spiri- 
tual meditation.  He  did  not  encourage  men  to  neglect 
their  temporal  welfare,  but  commanded  due  attention 
to  the  material.  "  Render  unto  Caesar  the  things  that 
are  Caesar's."  Perform  your  social  and  civic  duties; 
help  to  develop  your  material  resources,  and  to  im- 
prove your  physical  environment ;  but  "  Render  unto 
God  the  things  that  are  God's."  You  have  powers  and 


50  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

capacities  that  do  not  bear  the  impress  of  matter ;  your 
mind  with  all  its  undeveloped  possibilities,  your  desire 
for  knowledge,  your  respect  for  right  and  justice  and 
truth,  your  longings  and  aspirations  for  a  nobler  and 
better  life — "  Whose  is  this  image  and  superscrip- 
tion?" We  are  told  that  "God  created  man  in  His 
own  image,"  not  the  material  body,  but  the  mind,  the 
spiritual  element;  this  is  the  image  of  the  Divine. 

The  divinity  of  the  human  soul  is  the  central  thought 
of  education  as  well  as  of  religion.  The  belief  that 
every  mind  bears  the  stamp  of  the  Creator  adds  dignity 
and  worth  to  humanity.  The  highest  realization  that 
can  be  experienced  by  human  consciousness  is  this  kin- 
ship with  God — the  unity  of  man  in  thought  and  spirit 
with  the  divine  mind. 

The  first  lesson  I  would  impress  upon  young  people, 
as  they  start  their  career  in  high  school  or  college,  is 
this  exalted  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  mind  to  be  edu- 
cated. Failure  to  appreciate  the  dignity  and  nobility 
of  the  mind  itself  accounts  very  largely  for  the  neglect 
of  its  cultivation.  It  was  this  realization  that  enabled 
the  old  poet  to  say : 

"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is, 
Such  perfect  joy  therein  I  find, 
As  far  exceeds  all  earthly  bliss 
That  God  or  nature  hath  assigned." 


A   LESSON   FROM    AN   OLD   ROMAN   COIN.  51 

The  true  mission  of  all  right  education  is  the  de- 
velopment of  the  God-image  in  the  soul.  This  is  the 
end  and  the  aim  of  the  school.  Wherever  we  meet  a 
human  being,  whether  in  the  higher  and  more  favored 
walks  of  life,  or  in  the  dark  by-ways  of  ignorance  and 
the  neglected  paths  of  vice  and  squalor,  we  may  rest  as- 
sured that  down  deep  beneath  the  external  crust  lies 
the  true  gold.  It  may  be  covered  over  with  the  dross 
of  ignorance,  prejudice,  and  superstition;  it  may  be 
encrusted  with  the  cumulative  burden  of  inherited  vice 
and  depravity ;  it  may  have  passed  through  the  fires  of 
injustice,  bitter  oppression,  and  cruel  persecution;  it 
may  have  lain  in  the  darkness  of  ignorance  and  in  the 
chill  shadows  of  want  and  penury,  where  no  ray  of 
love  or  smile  of  sympathy  had  ever  penetrated;  it 
may  even  now  be  buried  in  a  sepulcher  of  evil  habits 
that  have  crystallized  into  an  adamantine  rock  im- 
pervious to  the  sunshine,  of  love ;  but  the  gold  is  still 
there,  and  the  image  it  bears  stamps  it  as  immortal. 
Through  the  processes  of  right  education  and  civiliza- 
tion, the  golden  core  may  be  reached;  and  if  touched 
by  the  true  metal  of  divine  love,  it  will  respond  in 
kind.  Little  by  little,  under  the  right  processes, 
the  "  image  and  the  superscription  "  may  be  developed, 
and  the  hard  lump  of  common  clay  may  at  last  be 
transformed  into  the  current  coin  of  God's  universal 


52  OLD   TALBS   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

empire.  It  is  within  our  power  so  to  use  our  oppor- 
tunities that  the  divine  image  may  be  developed  in 
our  own  souls  and  in  the  souls  of  those  with  whom  we 
come  in  contact. 

"  Seek  ye  first  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  'His  right- 
eousness." Seek  it  in  yourselves.  Seek  the  best  and 
the  purest  thoughts ;  seek  the  most  inspiring  words  and 
the  noblest  actions  of  which  you  are  capable.  "  The 
Kingdom  of  God  is  within  you."  Seek  it  in  your 
friends  and  associates.  In  our  daily  companions  we 
generally  find  what  we  are  seeking.  If  we  seek  mirth 
and  frivolity,  we  shall  find  them.  If  we  have  no  faith 
in  humanity,  we  shall  find  duplicity ;  it  is  what  we  are 
expecting.  If  we  are  looking  for  hate  and  prejudice, 
we  shall  find  them.  "  Seek  and  ye  shall  find ; "  but 
the  thing  we  find  will  be  what  we  are  seeking.  The 
man  who  goes  through  the  world  acting  on  the  theory 
that  every  man  he  meets  is  a  liar  and  a  thief  simply 
proves  to  the  world  that  he  himself  at  heart  is  dis- 
honest. The  man  that  goes  through  life  with  faith  in 
his  fellow-man,  trusting  the  honor  of  those  with  whom 
he  deals,  believing  others  to  be  honest  and  truthful, 
will  often  be  disappointed,  will  often  find  his  confidence 
misplaced ;  but  he  has  at  least  proved  to  the  world  that 
he  himself  is  a  gentleman,  that  his  own  heart  is  pure. 
What  you  yourself  are  at  heart,  you  expect  others  to 


A   LESSON    FROM    AN    OLD    ROMAN   COIN.  53 

be;  what  you  are  capable  of  doing,  you  expect  others 
to  do.  The  slanders  retailed  so  fluently  by  the  com- 
munity gossip  usually  have  their  real  source  in  the 
gossip's  mind. 

If  we  cultivate  faith  in  mankind  and  let  our  conduct 
towards  others  be  inspired  by  love,  how  different  life 
becomes !  If  the  soul  be  really  divine,  faith  in  man  is 
the  condition  of  faith  in  God ;  the  love  of  our  neighbor 
is  the  test  of  our  love  of  God.  "  If  a  man  say  I  love 
God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar."  "  He  that 
loveth  not  his  brother,  abideth  in  death."  Love  to 
man  is  the  test  of  the  higher  spiritual  life;  service  to 
God  means  service  to  humanity.  If  we  seek  with  this 
spirit  of  love,  we  shall  find  God  in  every  man.  Let  us 
cast  away  suspicion  and  distrust ;  let  us  look  for  truth 
and  beauty,  honor  and  justice;  and,  though  often  dis- 
appointed, we  shall  more  often  find  the  good  that  we 
are  seeking.  The  reason  why  our  friends  are  not 
better  to  us,  is  because  we  are  not  looking  for  the  best 
that  is  in  them.  Draw  out  the  best  thoughts,  the  best 
moods,  the  loftiest  ideals  of  those  with  whom  you  asso- 
ciate; in  return  give  them  nothing  that  is  not  pure  and 
true,  that  has  not  stamped  upon  it  the  "  image  and  the 
superscription "  of  the  divine.  "  Judge  not  that  ye 
be  not  judged."  Your  "  judgments "  or  opinions  of 
others  are  revelations  of  your  own  soul.  The  cynic 


54  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

tells  us  that  there  is  no  truth  or  honor  in  the  world ; 
by  this  judgment  he  tells  us  also  that  he  is  a  cynic. 
The  pessimist  tells  us  that  the  world  is  hopelessly  bad, 
and  his  opinion  brands  him  a  pessimist.  The  man  who 
does  not  believe  in  schools  or  churches,  or  charities  or 
reform's,  who  does  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  de- 
veloping higher  moral  standards  through  these  agen- 
cies, proclaims  to  the  world  that  the  "  image  and  super- 
scription "  in  his  own  soul  have  not  developed  into 
consciousness.  We  need  clearer  vision,  that  we  may 
see  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  divine  in  human 
souls;  we  need  broader  sympathies,  that  we  may  take 
upon  our  hearts  the  burdens  and  sorrows  of  other  lives. 
Narrow  is  our  little  life  and  empty,  until,  enlarged 
and  enriched  by  the  lives  of  others,  broadened  and 
sweetened  in  sympathy  for  others,  beautified  and  glori- 
fied in  love  for  others,  it  shall  have  realized  its  divine 
origin  and  become  the  current  coin  of  a  spiritual  em- 
pire, representing  the  power  and  majesty  of  the  Perfect 
Love  and  the  Perfect  Life. 

"  He  is  true  to  God  who  is  true  to  man ; 
Wherever  wrong  is  done 
To  the  humblest  and  the  weakest 
'Neath  the  all-beholding  sun, 
That  wrong  is  also  done  to  us; 
And  they  are  slaves  most  base 
Whose  love  of  right  is  for  themselves, 
And  not  for  all  their  race." 


VII.    KNOWLEDGE   AND   POWER. 

THE  most  difficult  task  that  confronts  a  young 
student  entering  upon  his  high  school  course  is  to 
learn  how  to  study.  Thinking  is  the  hardest  work  that 
any  one  can  undertake;  and  studying  is  learning  how 
to  think,  how  to  use  the  mind.  At  the  beginning  of 
your  work,  you  are  apt  to  feel  that  your  lessons  are 
too  long;  the  tasks  assigned  by  your  teachers,  too 
heavy;  and  the  actual  knowledge  gained  from  your 
books,  not  worth  the  expenditure  of  so  much  effort.  I 
wish  to  impress  upon  you  this  morning  the  fact  that 
your  success  or  failure  as  a  student  will  depend,  not 
upon  the  amount  of  information  you  may  get,  but  upon 
the  power  you  acquire.  The  actual  amount  of  useful 
information  that  you  derive  from  your  study  of  Latin 
or  German,  algebra  or  geometry,  may  be  very  small. 
The  chief  aim  of  school  instruction  is  the  development 
of  power;  ability  to  do,  to  bring  things  to  pass. 

The  test  of  your  progress  in  school  is  not  /  think,  I 
believe,  I  guess.  It  is  not  simply  7  know,  but  7  CAN. 
The  ability  to  do — effectually  to  accomplish  something 
— is  the  true  test  of  education.  In  the  old  Anglo- 

55 


56  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

Saxon,  the  verbs  "  know  "  and  "  can  "  have  nearly  the 
same  meaning.  Can  is  now  used  simply  as  an  auxiliary 
verb  in  the  present  tense.  Originally,  it  was  the  past 
tense  of  the  verb  "  ken,"  "  to  know; "  it  meant  "  I 
have  learned "  and  therefore  "  /  know  how/'  I  can. 
We  have  reminders  of  this  origin  in  the  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  words  "ken"  and  "con,"  in  the  old  Scottish 
word  "canny,"  and  in  the  noun  "can,"  a  vessel  with 
capacity  to  hold.  "  I  can,"  therefore,  means  not  sim- 
ply "  I  know,"  but  "  I  know  how."  Knowledge  in  itself 
is  not  a  power;  it  is  a  means,  a  condition  of  power. 
You  can  recite  your  declensions  or  conjugations,  be- 
cause you  have  learned  how;  you  can  solve  your  prob- 
lems in  algebra  because,  by  learning,  you  have  acquired 
the  power  to  do  so.  The  acquisition  of  power  is  far 
more  important  than  the  mere  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge— power  to  give  attention,  power  to  comprehend, 
power  to  memorize,  power  to  compare  and  to  reason, 
power  to  feel,  and  power  to  execute. 

Only  a  few  years  ago,  you  began  your  work  in  the 
primary  school.  You  were  then  weak  and  helpless: 
parents  and  teachers  did  most  of  your  work  for  you. 
Today  you  are  conscious  of  some  degree  of  power.  You 
have  mastered  the  elementary  processes  of  reasoning; 
you  have  learned  to  gather  knowledge  from  the  printed 
page  and  to  express  yourselves  with  more  or  less  clear- 


KNOWLEDGE   AND    POWEE.  57 

ness  both  in  speech  and  in  writing.  You  have  grown 
in  mental  power  as  you  have  in  physical  strength.  No 
longer  can  you  rely  upon  parents  and  teachers  to  do 
the  work  for  you ;  your  success  now  must  depend  upon 
your  own  efforts,  though  under  the  guidance  and  direc- 
tion of  others. 

Power  or  skill  is  not  inherited.  One  may  inherit 
tendencies  and  favorable  conditions,  but  real  power 
must  be  acquired  by  exercise.  Some  acquire  more 
easily  than  others;  but  all  must  comply  with  the  uni- 
versal condition  of  all  acquirement,  self-effort.  You 
did  not  inherit  ability  to  ride  a  bicycle;  you  acquired 
that  power,  not  by  reading  about  it,  not  by  seeing 
others  ride,  not  by  being  told  how,  but  by  trying  the 
exercise  yourself,  with  determination  to  succeed. 

The  first  evidence  of  mental  power  is  ability  to  con- 
centrate your  thoughts  with  vigor  and  force  upon  the 
work  you  have  in  hand.  The  manner  in  which  you 
study  affects  your  character  as  a  student  far  more 
than  the  subject-matter  of  any  text-book.  The  habit  of 
"  day-dreaming  "  over  a  text-book  is  most  pernicious  in 
its  effect  upon  character.  The  student  who  permits 
his  thoughts  to  wander  over  land  and  sea,  who  dawdles 
over  his  work,  wastes  his  time,  dissipates  his  mental 
energies  and  develops  mental  and  moral  weakness. 
This  is  the  young  student's  chief  trouble.  You  are 


58  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

preparing  your  history  lesson;  when  you  reach  the 
bottom  of  the  page,  you  suddenly  awake  to  the  fact 
that  your  thoughts  have  been  wandering;  you  have 
read  every  word  on  the  page,  but  you  cannot  recall  a 
single  thought.  You  are  preparing  your  Latin  lesson ; 
for  a  few  minutes  you  may  work  very  diligently,  but  all 
at  once  your  thoughts  begin  to  wander  and  you  are 
carried  far  away  from  your  Latin,  though  your  eyes 
may  still  rest  upon  the  text-book.  You  are  living  over 
again  the  pleasures  of  the  past  vacation  or  enjoying  in 
anticipation  the  enchantments  of  the  coming  circus  or 
the  bewildering  effects  of  that  promised  new  dress. 
Your  mind  drifts  with  the  tide  of  associated  thoughts 
and  glides  from  one  sweet  vision  to  another,  uncon- 
scious of  the  flight  of  time  and  of  the  task  you  have 
set  out  to  do.  Two  hours  pass  quickly,  and  fond 
parents  vainly  believe  you  have  been  studying.  The 
"  head-light "  oil  you  have  wasted  may  be  measured ; 
the  gas  you  have  burned  may  be  registered  by  a  metre ; 
but  there  is  no  device  under  heaven  to  register  the 
fruitless  flights  of  a  mind-wandering  student.  Do  not 
try  to  delude  yourselves  or  your  friends  into  the  belief 
that  this  is  studying.  Guard  well  the  mind;  control 
your  thoughts  and  cast  out  every  beguiling  intruder 
that  comes  between  you  and  your  lesson.  "  This  one 
thing  I  do,"  should  be  your  motto.  Concentrate  all 


KNOWLEDGE   AND    POWER.  59 

your  energies  upon  your  task  and  do  not  rest  till  you 
have  mastered  it.  Master  your  own  mind.  How  can 
this  power  be  developed?  I  know  of  no  better  plan 
than  to  try  the  "  time  test."  Does  it  take  you  two 
hours  to  get  your  lesson  in  Latin,  algebra,  or  geometry? 
See  if  you  can't  get  it  in  an  hour  and  a  half.  When 
you  have  succeeded  in  saving  half  an  hour,  make  up 
your  mind  to  get  it  in  an  hour.  If  you  succeed  in 
getting  it  in  half  the  time  formerly  required,  you  have 
made  a  great  saving  of  time  and  have  increased  your 
power  immensely.  Let  me  give  you  a  few  suggestions 
which  I  think  will  prove  helpful: 

1.  Provide    favorable    conditions.    You    cannot    do 
much  in  the  way  of  studying  when  hungry,  nor  imme- 
diately after  eating.    Don't  try  to  study  rocking  in  a 
chair  or  reclining  on  a  sofa.    Such  an  attitude  invites 
sleep.    Use  a  hard,  straight-back  chair  and  sit  erect. 
The  body  must  be  wide  awake  if  the  mind  is  to  be 
alert.    The  body  should  not  be  uncomfortable;  but,  if 
it  is  too  comfortable,  the  mind  works  indifferently. 
The  greatest  masterpieces  of  genius  have  not  come 
from  luxurious  parlors,  but  from  poorly  furnished  gar- 
rets. 

2.  Be  ready  to  legin.    Whatever  aids  are  needed — 
pencil,  paper,  ruler  or  dictionary — should  be  ready  at 
hand  before  you  begin  work.    To  search  for  each  arti- 


60  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

cle  as  it  is  needed  causes  waste  of  time,  distraction  of 
effort,  and  dissipation  of  energy. 

3.  Be  methodical.     Have  some  system  in  your  work. 
Get  your  lessons  in  the  same  order  every  day;  have 
the  same  place  to  study,  the  same  desk  or  table,  the 
same   chair,   the   same   hours.     Train   your   mind    to 
systematic    effort.      Don't   yield    too    easily    to    your 
"  moods."    You  may  say  "  I  don't  feel  like  studying 
to-night,  I'll  put  it  off  till  to-morrow."    It  is  very  true 
that  there  are  times  when  mental  effort  is  very  diffi- 
cult; when  we  may  not  feel  like  working.     Sometimes 
postponement  may  be  wise,  but  it  is  not  a  good  habit 
to  form.     The  cause  may  be  physical,  or  it  may  be 
mental.    Too    much    excitement,    whether   caused   by 
pleasure  or  by  disappointment,  is  never  conducive  to 
mental    concentration.     By    effort,    the    student    may 
master  his  moods  and  make  his  mental  powers  obedient 
to  his  will. 

4.  Be  self-dependent.    The  best  and  most  successful 
student  is  he  who  studies  alone.    Those  who  rely  upon 
others  are  usually  weak.    The  studying  done  by  'a 
group  of  students  in  one  room,  if  kept  up  for  any 
length  of  time,  is  apt  to  weaken  the  power  of  concen- 
tration.   The  work  that  tells,  the  work  that  really 
pays,  is  the  work  done  by  yourself  alone.     It  requires 
will-power  to  work  by  yourself.    Dare  to  be  alone. 


KNOWLEDGE   AND    POWER.  61 

Have  faith  in  yourself;  develop  confidence  in  your  own 
power,  reliance  upon  your  own  resources.  If  you  be- 
lieve you  can,  you  will;  if  you  think  you  can't,  you  will 
fail.  There  is  much  truth  in  the  old  Latin  motto : 
"  Possunt  quia  posse  videntur."  They  can,  because  they 
think  they  can. 

5.  Cultivate  patience.  There  are  many  people  who 
will  work  well  so  long  as  they  succeed;  but  when  they 
encounter  any  difficulty,  they  lose  heart.  Learn  to  per- 
severe. Newton,  the  great  astronomer  and  mathema- 
tician, declared  that  whatever  he  had  accomplished  in 
life  was  due  not  to  genius,  but  to  his  capacity  for 
patient,  persevering  work. 

Knowledge  is  power  only  when  that  knowledge  can 
be  applied  effectively.  There  are  many  people  who 
know  the  rules  of  mathematics,  but  they  have  not  the 
power  to  apply  them  effectively  in  the  solution  of 
mathematical  problems.  They  may  know  the  principles 
of  grammar  and  composition,  but  they  lack  the  power 
of  applying  them  in  concise  and  accurate  speech  or  in 
clear  and  logical  composition.  They  may  know  what 
is  right  and  seemly  in  conduct;  but  their  behavior  in 
school,  in  church,  or  on  the  street,  shows  clearly  their 
want  of  power  to  act  up  to  their  knowledge.  Knowl- 
edge is  power  only  when  it  issues  in  habitual  and 
appropriate  action,  when  it  results  in  actual  capacity 


62  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

to  perform.  There  is  a  chemistry  of  the  mind  that 
bears  a  striking  analogy  to  the  chemistry  of  nature. 
The  fuel  placed  in  the  furnace  is  not  power;  nor  does 
it  become  power  until  its  latent  energies  are  released, 
and  its  hidden  forces  are  transmuted  into  new  com- 
binations. The  water  in  the  engine  boiler  is  not  power ; 
it  can  have  no  expansive  force  until,  by  the  application 
of  heat,  its  hidden  energies  are  released  and  converted 
into  a  powerful  agent.  Food  is  not  power;  our  daily 
food  must  be  digested  and  resolved  into  simpler  ele- 
ments before  it  becomes  a  positive  living  force.  Knowl- 
edge is  not  power;  it  is  only  the  raw  material  of  power. 
It  must  be  disintegrated  by  the  processes  of  mental 
digestion  and  must  enter  into  new  forms  and  combina- 
tions, before  it  can  become  manifest  as  intellectual  and 
moral  power. 


VIII.     THE  PASSING  OF  THE  FENCES. 

"  By  faith  the  walls  of  Jericho  fell  down."— Heb.  xi.  30. 

Nor  long  ago,  there  was  inaugurated  here  in  Bir- 
mingham an  interesting  campaign  for  the  removal  of 
fences.  "  Tear  down  the  fences  "  was  the  cry  raised  by 
the  newspapers  and  taken  up  by  the  people;  and,  as  a 
result,  the  fences  that  once  enclosed  our  city  parks  and 
many  of  our  beautiful  residences  have  already  disap- 
peared. The  reasons  generally  given  for  this  move- 
ment are  superficial:  we  must  imitate  the  larger  and 
older  cities;  it  adds  to  the  beauty  of  our  streets;  it 
is  economy.  Many  people  dispense  with  their  fences, 
merely  because  it  is  a  fad  to  do  so. 

Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  there  is  a  deeper 
meaning  and  a  more  far-reaching  significance  in  this 
simple  fact  of  the  removal  of  the  fences  in  our  city? 
The  facts  of  our  lives  are  effects ;  even  the  passing  of  the 
fences  is  an  evolution.  What  is  the  real  significance  of 
this  fact?  What  is  its  logical  relation  to  history? 

To  me,  there  is  an  air  of  serene  confidence  and  trust- 
fulness about  a  residence  without  a  fence  around  it. 

63 


64  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

It  implies  a  great  deal  of  faith  in  the  honesty  and  good- 
will of  the  neighborhood,  and  is  a  very  high  compliment 
to  the  children  of  the  next-door  neighbors.  It  suggests 
that  the  owner  of  that  residence  is  at  peace  with  all 
his  neighbors,  and  that  the  children  of  that  neighbor- 
hood are  not  considered  rogues  and  vandals.  I  am 
pleased  every  time  I  pass  that  beautiful  unfenced  resi- 
dence across  the  street.  The  owner  of  that  residence 
seems  to  say  to  me  and  to  every  other  passer-by :  "  You 
are  a  very  decent,  respectable  man;  I  trust  you.  You 
and  I  do  not  need  fences."  An  unenclosed  residence 
suggests  friendliness  and  community  of  feeling.  It 
suggests  unselfishness  and  large-heartedness. 

In  the  cities  of  Europe,  the  residences  of  the  wealthy 
are  generally  enclosed  with  high  stone  walls  so  that 
the  passer-by  cannot  get  even  a  glimpse  of  the  green 
lawns,  the  flowers,  and  the  beautiful  shrubbery  within. 
There  is  an  air  of  distrust  and  selfish  exclusiveness 
about  those  forbidding  stone  walls.  As  I  pass  them, 
they  seem  to  say  to  me :  "  You  are  not  to  be  trusted. 
These  flowers  and  these  lawns  are  not  for  you;  you 
cannot,  you  shall  not  enjoy  them."  But  an  unfenced 
residence  gives  me  an  assurance  of  welcome.  It  seems 
to  convey  this  message  from  the  man  within  to  the  man 
without :  "  I  trust  you ;  look  at  my  gardens  and  my 
flowers  and  enjoy  them  with  me." 


THE   PASSING   OF  THE   FENCES.  65 

The  residence  of  the  middle  ages  was  a  castle  with 
high  stone  walls  ten  feet  or  more  in  thickness.  There 
were  windows  to  let  out  arrows  rather  than  to  let  in 
light.  There  was  the  moat  filled  with  water,  the  draw- 
bridge and  the  portcullis.  In  the  watch-towers  were 
sentinels  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  approaching  ene- 
mies. It  does  not  take  the  reader  of  mediaeval  history 
or  the  traveler  in  Europe  long  to  find  out  what  the 
people  of  those  days  thought  of  each  other.  Every 
home  was  a  fort  indicating  suspicion,  fear,  and  war. 
The  people  had  little  love  for  their  neighbors,  little 
faith  in  mankind. 

From  the  fortified  dwelling  of  the  fourteenth  century 
down  to  the  fenceless  residence  of  today  is  a  long,  long 
story — a  story  of  bloodshed  and  revolution,  a  story  of 
human  tragedy  and  world  suffering,  yet  a  story  of  the 
gradual  development  of  brotherly  love  and  of  faith  in 
man.  The  cities  of  the  old  world  in  ancient  times 
were  enclosed  with  high  stone  walls  for  the  protection 
of  the  inhabitants.  Some  of  the  oldest  cities  of  the 
new  world  also  were  surrounded  with  walls.  When  the 
French  settled  in  Quebec,  the  first  thing  they  did  was 
to  build  a  wall  around  the  town  to  protect  themselves 
against  the  Indians  and  against  the  English.  The  rem- 
nants of  this  old  wall  may  still  be  seen,  as  may 
remnants  of  the  town-walls  in  St.  Augustine  and  Santa 


66  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

F6.  The  old  walls  serve  no  purpose  today :  the  progress 
of  brotherly  love,  faith,  and  good-will  has  rendered 
them  useless.  They  stand  only  as  silent  witnesses  to 
the  suspicion,  the  hate,  and  the  faithlessness  of  other 
days.  Fences  and  walls  suggest  a  wild  land  filled  with 
wild  beasts  and  barbarians,  a  primeval  forest  filled 
with  bloodthirsty  savages. 

The  growth  of  faith  in  humanity  during  the  last  half 
century  has  swept  away  international  barriers.  Nation 
trusts  nation  more  and  more  as  the  years  pass,  and 
the  whole  world  is  rapidly  becoming  a  community  of 
nations  without  walls  or  fences.  The  nation  that  iso- 
lates itself  from  the  rest  of  humanity  by  a  great  wall, 
will  soon  find  itself  in  the  condition  of  China.  It  must 
tear  down  its  walls  and  enter  the  great  community  of 
nations,  or  suffer  the  humiliation  of  defeat  and  dis- 
grace. 

St.  John,  in  his  vision,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  good 
time  coming,  when  he  prophesied,  "  There  shall  be  no 
more  sea."  The  great  oceans  that  once  kept  the  nations 
apart  are  today  great  highways  of  commerce  and 
friendly  intercourse.  There  shall  be  no  more  sea  as  a 
barrier  to  brotherhood ;  and,  with  the  increase  of  faith 
upon  the  earth,  we  may  hope  for  realization  of  Tenny- 
son's dream,  "  The  parliament  of  man,  the  federation 
of  the  world." 


THE   PASSING   OF   THE    FENCES.  67 

In  the  temple  at  Jerusalem,  a  row  of  marble  pillars 
called  "  the  wall  of  partition  "  fenced  off  the  court  of 
the  Gentiles.  On  this  wall  was  the  inscription  in  Latin 
and  in  Greek,  "  No  foreigner  may  go  further  on  pen- 
alty of  death."  This  hatred  of  foreigners  is  charac- 
teristic of  all  nations  and  peoples  who  have  fenced 
themselves  in  from  the  rest  of  the  world  by  ignorance 
and  selfishness.  It  was  characteristic  even  of  the  most 
enlightened  nations  of  antiquity.  The  moral  ideals  of 
Greece  and  Rome  made  it  as  much  a  duty  to  hate 
foreigners  as  to  love  fellow-citizens.  Even  Plato,  the 
wisest  of  the  ancient  philosophers,  congratulated  the 
Athenians  that,  in  their  dealings  with  the  Persians, 
"  they  had  shown  a  pure  and  heartfelt  hatred  of  the 
foreign  nature."  There  are  many  countries  today 
where  the  foreigner  is  still  subjected  to  suspicion, 
hatred,  and  persecution.  There  are  many  countries 
where  hereditary  caste  and  arbitrary  social  distinc- 
tions stand  as  impassable  barriers,  separating  man 
from  fellow-man.  The  Christians  are  still  menaced  in 
Armenia,  and  the  Jews  are  still  persecuted  in  France 
and  in  Russia.  The  political  barriers  that  have  separ- 
ated states  and  sections  in  our  own  country  have  been 
almost  eliminated,  and  the  high  barbed-wire  denomi- 
national fences  which  have  so  long  divided  the  religious 
world  into  hostile  camps  are  rapidly  disappearing. 


68  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

Every  great  charity,  every  organized  effort  for  the 
relief  of  human  suffering  and  the  uplifting  of  the  race, 
demolishes  whole  sections  of  our  sectarian  fences. 
Only  a  short  time  ago  in  Galveston,  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest,  a  Jewish  rabbi,  and  a  Protestant  minister  served 
together  on  the  same  committee  to  relieve  the  suffering 
of  a  stricken  people.  In  the  presence  of  that  great 
calamity,  theological  distinctions  and  differences  of 
creed  were  forgotten ;  and  all  were  united  in  one  great 
faith,  one  great  hope,  and  one  great  charity. 

"  By  faith  the  walls  of  Jericho  fell  down."  It  was 
not  by  the  use  of  battering  rams  or  dynamite,  but  by 
the  silent  progress  of  the  army  of  Joshua  around  the 
walls.  By  faith,  also,  the  walls  about  the  cities  of  the 
old  world  fell  down ;  by  faith,  the  castles  of  the  middle 
ages  have  disappeared;  and  by  faith. the  barriers  that 
have  so  long  separated  the  nations  of  the  earth  have 
been  eliminated.  The  greatest  lesson  in  all  history  is 
the  lesson  of  faith.  Faith  in  man  is  the  corner-stone 
of  all  progress :  credit  is  the  basis  of  modern  trade  and 
the  key-note  of  our  entire  commercial  system.  Faith 
in  mankind  is  the  basis  of  government,  the  foundation 
of  democracy.  Without  faith  there  could  be  no  organ- 
ization, no  combination  of  labor  and  capital,  no  trades- 
unions  and  no  trusts.  Nowhere  is  this  principle  so 
conspicuously  demonstrated  as  in  our  own  country. 


THE   PASSING   OF   THE    FENCES.  69 

Here,  the  fences  separating  the  Jew  from  the  Gentile 
have  almost  disappeared;  and  the  Irishman  and  the 
Anglo-Saxon  dwell  together  as  brethren.  By  faith, 
arbitrary  race  and  social  distinctions  are  passing  away ; 
and  in  an  atmosphere  of  fraternity  and  equal  oppor- 
tunity, each  individual  stands  or  falls  by  his  own 
merit.  In  the  public  schools,  there  are  no  educational 
fences  restricting  the  opportunities  of  knowledge  and 
culture  to  the  favored  few.  The  doors  of  opportunity 
are  open  for  all  who,  through  faith,  will  enter.  To 
meet  with  success  in  any  vocation  today,  a  man  must 
trust  and  be  trusted.  The  men  who  get  themselves  and 
their  friends  into  the  most  serious  troubles  in  the 
business  world  are  the  men  who  cannot  be  trusted; 
the  boys  who  get  into  constant  trouble  in  school  or 
college  are  the  boys  who  cannot  be  trusted.  Faith  is 
the  corner-stone  of  the  school,  of  business,  of  govern- 
ment, and  of  civilized  society. 

"  To  tear  down  the  fences  "  is  the  mission  of  educa- 
tion, of  science,  and  of  religion.  It  is  the  mission  of 
democracy.  Every  advance  in  true  culture,  every  deed 
of  heroism  and  of  charity,  every  invention  and  every 
discovery  in  science,  knocks  out  a  stone  from  some 
partition  wall.  And  as  the  walls  of  Jericho  fell  by 
faith,  so  shall  the  social  and  industrial  barriers  that 
still  impede  the  progress  of  the  race  soon  disappear, 


70  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

and  the  glorious  dream  of  universal  brotherhood  be- 
come a  realization. 

"  It's  coming  yet,  for  a'  that, 
That  man  to  man,  the  warld  o'er, 
Shall  brothers  be  for  a*  that." 

Faith  in  man  is  the  great  spiritual  force,  the  batter- 
ing-ram that  is  slowly  but  surely  breaking  down  the 
walls  of  the  ages;  and  faith  in  man  is  the  index  of 
faith  in  God. 


IX.    A   CLOUD   OF   WITNESSES. 

"  Wherefore  seeing  we  also  are  compassed  about  with  so  great  a 
cloud  of  witnesses." — Heb.  xii.  1. 

THERE  is  a  classic  charm  about  the  picture  which  the 
sacred  writer  here  presents  us.  Paul  had  evidently 
attended  some  of  the  great  festivals  for  which  both 
Greece  and  Rome  were  famous.  Perhaps  he  had  seen 
the  Circensian  games  in  the  Circus  Maximus  at  Rome. 
It  is  more  likely,  however,  that  he  had  in  mind  the 
scene  presented  in  the  amphitheater,  during  the  cele- 
bration of  one  of  the  four  great  national  festivals  of 
Greece.  The  description  of  the  chariot  race  in  Wal- 
lace's "  Ben-Hur  "  is  no  doubt  familiar  to  many  of  you. 
That  scene  is  represented  as  having  occurred  during 
the  time  of  Christ,  in  the  wealthy  city  of  Antioch.  It 
is  perhaps  the  most  vivid  picture  of  its  kind  in  all 
literature  and  gives  us  an  excellent  idea  of  the  manner 
in  which  these  classic  festivals  were  conducted.  The 
most  celebrated  of  the  Grecian  festivals  was  the  Olym- 
pic held  at  Elis  once  every  four  years.  During  the 
celebration  of  the  Olympic  games,  a  sacred  truce  was 
declared :  war  was  suspended  throughout  the  states  of 

71 


72  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

Greece.  In  the  great  amphitheater,  gallery  above  gal- 
lery, sat  assembled  Greece,  tens  of  thousands  and  even 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  people,  terraced  like  clouds 
in  the  heavens,  looking  down  upon  the  exciting  scene 
in  the  arena  below.  Fifty  brawny  contestants  are 
about  to  begin  the  foot-race ;  they  represent  the  various 
states  and  cities  of  Greece,  and,  in  anticipation  of  this 
contest,  have  been  for  years  under  the  instruction  of  a 
"  lanista "  or  special  trainer.  As  they  lean  forward 
eagerly  awaiting  the  signal  for  the  start,  each  has  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  course ;  every  muscle  is  contracted, 
every  nerve  is  tense,  and  all  the  physical  energies  are 
concentrated  upon  the  work  in  hand.  Flashing  eye, 
dilating  nostril,  and  heaving  breast  show  intense  but 
controlled  excitement.  It  is  no  time  for  idle  talk,  it  is 
no  time  for  playful  jest.  It  is  to  them  the  most  serious 
crisis  of  a  lifetime.  A  slight  advantage  gained  or  lost 
may  decide  the  victory.  Every  unnecessary  weight  has 
been  laid  aside :  everything  that  might  impede  progress 
or  endanger  success  has  been  removed.  The  prize  itself 
is  insignificant:  it  has  no  money  value;  it  is  only  a 
laurel  wreath  from  the  sacred  grove  of  Olympia.  But 
they  know  that  the  honor  of  victory  is  inestimable. 
The  winner  of  the  prize  not  only  honors  himself,  but 
honors  his  family  and  friends  and  confers  distinction 
upon  his  city  and  state.  He  is  carried  home  in  a 


A   CLOUD   OP    WITNESSES.  73 

triumphal  procession  and  enters  his  native  city,  not 
through  the  usual  gates,  but  through  a  breach  made  in 
the  wall.  He  is  henceforth  to  occupy  a  place  of  high- 
est honor  in  bis  city  and  state.  He  has  immortalized 
himself,  and  his  praises  are  spread  abroad  in  story  and 
in  song.  The  hope  of  such  distinction  must  nerve  to 
his  best  efforts  each  contestant.  More  than  this,  he  is 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  around  him  and  above  him 
in  that  vast  amphitheater  is  a  "  great  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses." Not  for  one  moment  can  he  take  his  eyes 
from  the  course  to  look  at  that  vast  assemblage.  But 
he  knows  that  his  family  and  friends  are  there;  he 
knows  that  the  representatives  of  his  city  and  state  are 
there;  he  knows  that  he  is  the  center  upon  which  a 
thousand  anxious  hearts  are  focused.  When  the  signal 
at  last  is  given,  he  "  runs  with  patience  the  race  that 
is  set  before  him."  The  consciousness  of  the  fact  that 
"  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses "  attends  him  gives 
courage  and  strength;  their  hopes  and  their  prayers 
give  wings  to  his  feet.  Always,  it  is  joy  to  perform  an 
heroic  deed  in  the  presence  of  a  great  multitude.  Hob- 
son  at  Santiago  and  Dewey  in  the  Bay  of  Manila 
were  applauded  even  by  the  whole  civilized  world. 
"Wherefore  seeing  we  also  are  compassed  about  with 
so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us  lay  aside  every 
weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us,  and 


74  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before 
us." 

When  I  look  into  the  faces  of  the  four  hundred 
students  before  me,  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  that  vast 
congregation  of  parents  and  relatives  and  friends  whose 
interests  are  represented  here.  We  are  not  alone  in 
our  work ;  every  life  involves  other  lives.  Teachers  and 
students  are  compassed  about  with  a  great  cloud  of 
interested  witnesses.  Every  single  life  that  enters  here 
is  the  focus  upon  which  are  converged  the  hopes  and 
affections  of  a  whole  domestic  circle.  Each  life  before 
me  has  its  own  "  cloud  of  witnesses  "  to  inspire  and 
encourage  its  highest  endeavor.  Fathers  are  working 
and  saving,  mothers  are  praying  and  sacrificing,  that 
you  may  be  able  "  to  run  with  patience  the  race  that 
is  set  before  you." 

Interest  in  your  life  and  work  here  is  not  confined 
to  the  members  of  your  domestic  circle  and  your  imme- 
diate friends.  You  are  here  the  representatives  of  your 
city  and  your  state ;  you  are  the  elect  among  thousands 
to  represent  and  demonstrate  the  culture  and  the  train- 
ing of  our  social  and  civil  society.  In  this  "  cloud  of 
witnesses,"  we  find  the  city  and  the  state,  the  church 
and  society,  all  interested  spectators  with  eyes  fixed 
upon  this  arena. 

You  are  to  represent  the  scholarship  and  the  culture 


A   CLOUD   OF    WITNESSES.  75 

of  the  past;  you  have  received  as  a  heritage,  the 
achievements  and  the  wisdom  of  those  who  have  served 
their  generation  and  passed  to  their  reward.  Poets 
have  sung,  authors  have  written,  and  painters  have 
spread  their  canvases  for  you.  But  without  your  per- 
sonal effort  to  realize  and  possess  your  heritage,  their 
work  is  incomplete.  The  Apostle  says  that  "  they 
without  us  should  not  be  made  perfect."  Our  faith 
and  our  labor  are  essential  to  the  perfection  of  those 
who  have  served  before  us:  the  past  is  complete  only 
in  the  present;  the  work  of  parents  is  completed  and 
perfected  only  in  the  lives  of  their  children. 

"  Let  us  lay  aside  every  weight  and  the  sin  that  doth 
so  easily  beset  us."  As  you  enter  upon  the  course 
before  you,  do  you  still  insist  upon  carrying  weights 
to  retard  your  progress?  Many  young  students  try  to 
carry  along  with  them  other  interests,  which  must 
hamper  them  in  the  race.  Lay  them  aside.  Is  it  the 
weight  of  greed  for  money,  of  selfishness,  of  idleness 
and  indifference,  of  frivolity  and  social  pleasure?  Lay 
them  aside.  Every  year,  there  are  hundreds  of  young 
girls  and  boys  whose  physical  constitutions  are 
wrecked,  not  by  hard  study,  but  by  imprudence  in 
eating  and  dressing,  late  hours  and  social  dissipation. 
With  these  weights,  you  will  be  hopelessly  handicapped ; 
lay  them  aside.  The  contestants  in  the  race  not  only 


76  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

laid  aside  every  obstructing  weight,  but  also  faced 
with  courage  all  the  hardships  and  difficulties  neces- 
sary to  the  victory.  In  their  training,  they  did  not 
seek  exemption  from  toil  and  trial.  The  young  man  or 
woman  who  searches  the  curriculum  for  the  easiest 
course ;  who  asks  to  be  excused  from  this  study  or  that, 
because  it  is  difficult,  will  never  win  the  prize. 

This  great  cloud  of  witnesses  with  which  we  are 
compassed  imposes  upon  us  a  great  responsibility.  If 
only  our  own  life,  our  own  destiny,  were  involved,  it 
would  be  serious  enough.  But  oh,  how  serious  becomes 
our  work,  when  we  remember  that  the  past,  the  present, 
and  the  future  are  involved  in  our  success  or  failure! 
We  are  to  make  perfect  the  heritage  of  the  past  by 
using  it  to  the  advantage  of  the  present,  and  we  are  to 
transmit  it  unimpaired  to  the  future.  Great  is  our 
responsibility.  The  cloud  of  witnesses  gave  courage 
and  inspiration  to  the  contestant  in  the  Olympic 
games.  The  interest  and  solicitude  of  loved  ones 
should  inspire  and  encourage  us  to  do  our  best,  "to 
run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us."  It 
is  not  the  one  who  frets  and  chafes;  it  is  not  the  one 
who  loses  control  of  self  in  the  excitement  of  the  race, 
or  who  runs  spasmodically,  who  wins  the  victory. 
Patience  is  essential  to  success.  It  is  not  always  the 
brilliant  and  the  clever  student  that  gets  the  most  out 


A   CLOUD   OP    WITNESSES.  77 

of  school,  or  out  of  life.    The  slow  plodder,  by  patience 
and  perseverance,  often  outstrips  the  swift. 

"  It  is  not  strength  but  art  obtains  the  prize, 
And  to  be  swift  is  less  than  to  be  wise." 


X.    THE    STOEY   OF   THE    CENTURIES. 

THE  passing  of  the  nineteenth  century  and  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  twentieth  are  without  significance,  save 
to  the  thoughtful  few.  For  the  masses  of  men  and 
women  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  logic  of  history, 
no  serious  reflection  is  provoked,  no  important  lesson 
is  emphasized.  Days,  months,  and  years  are  marked 
off  by  natural  boundaries  which  all  may  recognize. 
These  divisions  of  time  impress  us  because  they  affect 
the  routine  of  physical  existence  and  enter  into  the 
business  calculations  of  our  lives.  There  are  no  lines 
of  demarcation — no  natural  events  to  signalize  the 
transitions  of  centuries.  The  stream  of  time  glides 
silently  on,  passing  one  century  mark  after  another, 
with  no  series  of  cataracts  to  register  the  stages  of  its 
rapid  descent.  Days,  months,  and  years  are  necessary 
to  the  business  of  the  bank  and  the  workshop.  Cen- 
turies are  of  interest  only  to  the  historian  and  the 
philosopher. 

While  we  review  the  progress  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury and  praise  its  marvelous  achievements,  it  is  well 
to  remember  that  every  century  of  the  past  has  been 

78 


THE   STORY   OF  THE   CENTURIES.  79 

regarded  as  a  wonderful  era,  when  compared  with  its 
predecessor.  The  progress  of  each  succeeding  century 
is  made  possible  by  the  achievements  of  all  that  have 
preceded  it.  No  great  character  or  great  event  in  his- 
tory stands  alone.  Each  is  the  product  of  a  thousand 
contributing  influences.  The  great  discoveries  and  in- 
ventions of  our  age  are  due  not  exclusively  to  the  men 
whose  names  are  associated  with  them.  Whitney 
utilized  the  results  of  a  score  of  failures  before  he  gave 
the  cotton-gin  to  the  world;  it  took  more  than  one 
brain  to  produce  the  sewing-machine;  and  Edison  and 
Bell  have  profited  by  the  scientific  investigations  and 
inventions  of  thousands  who  have  preceded  them. 

The  progress  of  civilization  is  rhythmic.  The  lines 
of  development  are  neither  continuous  nor  parallel. 
There  is  definite  progress,  however;  and  one  great 
purpose  runs  through  all  the  centuries  of  the  world. 
All  lines  of  thought  and  human  activity  are  related 
and  interdependent.  Perfection  in  any  one  line  is 
impossible  without  corresponding  development  in  all 
related  lines.  Much  of  history  is  valueless,  except  as 
it  serves  for  scaffolding  in  the  development  of  some 
portion  of  the  structure  of  civilization. 

In  order  that  we  may  form  an  unbiased  judgment  of 
the  achievements  of  the  nineteenth  century,  let  us 
briefly  review  the  most  striking  contributions  of  its 


80  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

immediate  predecessors.  Emerging  from  the  darkness 
of  the  middle  ages,  we  enter  upon  an  era  of  awakening 
in  the  fifteenth  century — the  dawn  of  the  Renaissance. 
The  permanent  contributions  of  this  century  may  be 
summed  up  in  a  few  words:  it  gave  the  world  gun- 
powder which  made  the  peasant  equal  to  the  knight 
on  the  field  of  battle ;  it  contributed  the  printing-press, 
destined  to  become  the  world's  most  powerful  agency 
for  enlightenment,  and  the  mariner's  compass,  which 
enabled  man  to  become  lord  of  the  ocean.  On  the 
practical  side  of  life,  these  three  contributions  consti- 
tute the  sum  of  the  progress  of  all  preceding  centuries, 
and  the  foundation  of  all  that  should  follow.  But, 
important  as  these  contributions  have  proven  to  be,  the 
glory  of  the  fifteenth  century  consists  in  the  discovery 
of  unknown  lands  beyond  the  seas.  The  kings,  em- 
perors, and  popes,  who  ruled  Europe  during  that 
century,  are  almost  forgotten ;  but  the  names  of  Colum- 
bus, Magellan,  Vasco  de  Gama,  and  the  Cabots  are 
immortal,  because  of  their  imperishable  contributions 
to  civilization.  It  was  the  fifteenth  century  that 
gathered  up  the  scattered  treasures  of  preceding  ages 
and  laid  the  foundation  for  modern  civilization.  Its 
lines  of  progress,  however,  were  material  rather  than 
intellectual  or  moral.  Its  energies  were  concentrated 
upon  matter  rather  than  upon  man.  It  gave  hitherto 


THE    STORY    OF   THE   CENTURIES.  81 

unknown  continents  to  civilization,  but  it  accomplished 
little  for  man  as  a  moral  and  social  being. 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  we  find  a  marked  departure 
from  the  material  plane  of  the  fifteenth.  In  this  cen- 
tury, history  turns  upon  the  pivot  of  human  interest. 
It  was  an  era  of  religious  and  spiritual  awakening, 
and  the  emotional  element  of  the  individual  manifested 
itself  in  sentimental  literature  and  in  fanaticism;  in 
the  inquisition,  in  persecution  and  martyrdom,  and  in 
a  series  of  cruel,  religious  wars.  It  was  the  era  of  that 
religious  upheaval  in  Europe  known  as  the  Reforma- 
tion ;  and  the  events  of  its  history  are  clustered  about 
such  names  as  Luther  and  Zwingli,  Erasmus,  Melanc- 
thon,  Calvin,  John  Knox,  and  scores  of  other  names 
associated  with  the  great  religious  movements  of  the 
century.  It  was  also  the  beginning  of  the  era  of 
colonization,  a  movement  prolific  in  its  results  to  the 
individual  and  to  society.  The  sixteenth  century  de- 
veloped the  individual  on  the  emotional  side. 

The  seventeenth  century  was  ushered  in  by  the  Eliza- 
bethan age  of  literature  in  England,  and  was  made 
illustrious  by  the  names  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Dry- 
den,  and  Pope,  Addison  and  Steele,  Bacon,  Locke,  and 
Newton.  In  France  it  included  the  classical  age  of 
Louis  XIV  and  the  founding  of  the  French  Academy, 
and  among  its  immortal  names  are  those  of  Moliere 


82  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

and  Racine,  Fenelon  and  Descartes.  All  Europe  ex- 
perienced an  intellectual  awakening;  and  the  masses, 
through  the  dissemination  of  general  knowledge,  were 
brought  to  a  consciousness  of  their  intellectual  powers 
and  .of  their  needs  and  rights  as  men.  The  seventeenth 
century  developed  the  individual  on  the  intellectual 
side. 

In  the  eighteenth  century,  the  dominant  idea  was  the 
positive  assertion  of  political  rights  by  the  individual. 
The  masses  of  the  people,  having  developed  a  conscious- 
ness of  their  selfhood,  now  turned  under  the  heel  of 
tyranny.  Emotion  and  intellect  find  expression  in 
will.  It  was  the  era  of  popular  demand  for  civil  and 
religious  freedom.  It  culminated  in  the  liberation  of 
the  American  Colonies,  the  birth  of  the  American 
Republic,  and  the  French  Revolution.  It  abolished 
feudalism,  gave  the  death-blow  to  absolute  monarchy, 
established  the  principle  of  political  equality,  and  sub- 
stituted the  modern  for  the  mediaeval  state.  The 
eighteenth  century  developed  the  individual  on  the 
executive  side,  and  the  cycle  of  dominant  individualism 
was  complete. 

In  the  nineteenth  century,  civilization  returned  to 
the  material  plane  of  the  fifteenth  century.  A  new 
cycle  began,  and  history  repeated  itself.  The  fifteenth 
century  was  characterized  by  great  inventions,  and  was 


THE    STORY   OF   THE    CENTURIES.  83 

an  era  of  unprecedented  geographical  discovery  and 
territorial  expansion.  The  nineteenth  century  gave  us 
a  very  striking  parallel.  Its  discoveries  and  expansion 
movements  eclipsed  those  of  all  the  preceding  centuries. 
The  increased  powers  of  the  individual  were  concen- 
trated upon  the  conquest  of  man's  material  environ- 
ment. The  spirit  of  industrialism  and  of  commercial- 
ism dominated  all  of  the  activities  of  the  century.  But 
the  extraordinary  progress  of  invention,  the  applica- 
tion of  machinery  to  wealth  production,  and  the  rapid 
increase  of  cheap  transportation  facilities,  developed 
entirely  new  economic  conditions.  As  a  result  of  this 
development,  we  find  enormously  increased  capital  and 
production,  the  concentration  of  large  masses  of  people 
in  cities,  and  the  growth  of  social  and  commercial  or- 
ganizations, and  of  combinations  of  labor  and  capital. 
The  material  development  of  the  nineteenth  century 
was  based  upon  individualism,  but  the  results  and  ten- 
dencies of  this  development  were  distinctively  social. 
The  progress  of  the  century  consisted  in  laying  the  ma- 
terial foundation  for  the  social  development  of  the  race, 
and  its  economic  problems  were  the  natural  and  logical 
results  of  its  industrial  activities.  The  nineteenth  cen- 
tury prepared  the  way  for  the  social  reorganization  of 
the  race,  as  the  fifteenth  century  did  for  the  uplifting 
of  the  individual. 


84  OLD   TALES   AND    MODEBN    IDEALS. 

In  this  new  cycle  of  progress,  what  is  to  be  the  mis- 
sion of  the  twentieth  century?  The  orderly  sequence 
of  history  would  naturally  lead  us  to  expect  that  the 
twentieth  century  should  be  the  historical  analogue  of 
the  sixteenth ;  that  human  interests  should  prevail  over 
material  development;  that  emotional  activity  should 
be  expanded  into  aesthetic  and  ethical  life.  From  the 
character  of  nineteenth  century  progress,  the  inference 
is  also  justifiable,  that  individualism,  as  a  motive  force, 
will  be  superseded  by  socialism.  While  the  individual 
must  still  be  emphasized,  it  will  be  the  individual  as  a 
social  and  institutional  being,  as  a  member  of  the  state 
and  of  society,  and,  as  such,  in  sympathetic  touch  with 
all  mankind.  Egoism  must  yield  to  altruism,  and 
selfishness  in  individuals  and  in  organizations  must  be 
sacrificed  for  the  well-being  of  the  race. 

An  industrial  and  manufacturing  era  like  the  nine- 
teenth century  had  to  deal  with  the  problems  of  ma- 
terial wealth  production,  and  with  questions  relating  to 
the  economics  of  daily  existence.  Physics,  chemistry, 
and  political  economy,  naturally  and  properly,  became 
the  popular  sciences  of  the  schools,  because  the  ethical 
and  sociological  problems  involved  could  not  be  antici- 
pated. But  these  new  problems  developed  by  the 
industrialism  of  the  century  are  already  pressing  for 
solution.  In  the  twentieth  century,  economic  thought 


THE    STORY   OP   THE    CENTURIES.  85 

will  be  directed  chiefly,  not  to  wealth  production,  but 
to  wealth  distribution.  The  old  science  of  political 
economy  will  be  largely  superseded  in  its  hold  upon 
the  popular  mind  by  the  new  science  of  sociology. 
Physics  and  chemistry  will  yield  their  supremacy  in 
the  curricula  of  our  schools  to  psychology,  ethics,  and 
aesthetics.  The  study  of  man  will  be  esteemed  more 
highly  than  that  of  matter;  and  the  ethical  adjustment 
of  human  relations  will  be  deemed  more  deserving  of 
man's  deepest  study  than  the  mechanical  adjustment  of 
material  means  and  ends,  for  the  gratification  of  selfish 
desires.  As  the  nineteenth  century  has  given  man  a 
new  material  environment,  the  twentieth  century  must 
develop  for  him  a  higher  ethical  and  spiritual  environ- 
ment; as  the  sixteenth  century  began  the  evolution  of 
human  interest  from  the  standpoint  of  the  individual, 
the  twentieth  century  must  emphasize  the  ethical  and 
moral  aspects  of  life  through  social  and  economic 
organization. 


XI.    VEGETABLE   SOCIOLOGY. 

THERE  are  many  facts  of  vegetable  life  that  are 
wonderfully  suggestive  of  the  laws  and  conditions  of 
human  society.  The  biologist,  with  his  microscope  and 
his  imagination,  finds  that  much  of  the  prose  and  the 
poetry  of  human  life  has  been  anticipated  in  garden, 
field,  and  forest;  that  even  the  social  and  ethical  rela- 
tions of  mankind  are  faintly  typified  in  the  vegetable 
kingdom.  Natural  laws  are  universal,  and  the  penal- 
ties for  their  infraction  must  be  uniform  throughout 
the  realm  of  nature. 

Idleness  is  abnormal  everywhere.  With  the  members 
of  the  vegetable  family,  the  normal  state  is  that  of 
labor.  Even  the  modest  little  plant  by  the  wayside  is 
an  incessant  worker.  If  we  could  read  aright  its  life 
history,  we  would  find  its  career  to  be  one  of  continuous 
endeavor  to  fulfill  its  life  mission — the  primary  purpose 
of  its  existence.  The  microscope  has  revealed  to  us  the 
fact  that  the  plant  is  provided  with  an  exquisite  labora- 
tory, equipped  with  the  most  ingenious,  delicate,  and 
costly  aparatus  imaginable.  Not  only  is  the  plant 
required  to  use  these  tools  skillfully  in  the  accomplish- 

86 


VEGETABLE   SOCIOLOGY.  87 

ment  of  its  work,  but  it  is  also  intrusted  with  their 
complete  construction  and  their  maintenance.  So 
complex  and  so  costly  is  this  equipment  of  the  plant 
workshop  that  human  ingenuity,  with  all  the  wealth 
of  the  Rothschilds,  could  never  have  devised  or  con- 
structed its  elaborate  machinery. 

Root,  stem,  and  leaf  are  three  separate  departments 
of  the  plant  laboratory,  in  each  of  which  are  conducted 
the  delicate  processes  essential  to  plant  work.  The 
roots  grow  downward  into  the  earth  to  gather  up  and 
prepare  the  raw  material ;  they  take  up  in  solution  the 
various  food  substances  necessary  for  the  body  of  the 
plant  and  accumulate  a  store  of  plastic  material  to  be 
worked  up  in  the  laboratory  as  necessity  demands.  The 
leaves  grow  heavenward  and  exercise  functions  of  the 
highest  importance  to  the  welfare  of  the  plant.  They 
contain  that  mysterious  substance  known  as  chloro- 
phyll— the  green  coloring  matter  which  enables  the  leaf 
to  absorb  the  energy  of  the  sunlight  and  to  assimilate 
the  carbon  dioxide  of  the  air  into  the  plant  system.  By 
its  power,  the  sunbeam  that  falls  upon  the  leaf  yields 
its  vital  energy,  which,  by  some  mysterious  process,  un- 
known to  human  science,  is  transmuted  into  life.  This 
process — the  manufacture  of  plant  life — is  difficult,  ex- 
pensive, and  mysterious.  In  vain,  science  has  tried  to 
learn  the  secret;  and  though  the  microscope  has  made 


88  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

wonderful  revelations  in  regard  to  the  conditions  and 
processes  of  life,  life  itself  remains  a  mystery.  In 
the  work  of  the  plant,  we  know  that  the  roots  deal 
with  the  earth  and  provide  the  material  element;  that 
the  chlorophyll  of  the  leaf,  by  its  affinity  for  the 
sunlight,  provides  for  the  higher  life;  and  that  the 
function  of  the  stem  is  to  serve  as  a  channel  of  com- 
munication between  the  roots  and  the  leaves,  and  to 
support  the  higher  organs  of  the  plant  in  such  a  way 
that  all  may  do  their  assigned  work  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. 

Human  society  is  divided  into  various  classes,  ac- 
cording to  the  capacity  of  its  members  for  work  or 
according  to  their  attitude  towards  the  great  ends  of 
human  life.  Since  intelligent  and  purposeful  work  is 
accepted  as  the  normal  state,  we  have  various  abnormal 
social  states  or  classes.  We  thus  speak  of  the  defective 
classes,  the  criminal  classes,  the  idle  classes,  et  cetera. 
So,  also,  among  the  members  of  plant  society,  the  biol- 
ogist finds  abnormal  classes,  determined  primarily  by 
their  attitude  towards  the  work  assigned  them — the 
ends  of  vegetable  being. 

When  dissimilar  members  of  the  plant  family  live 
together,  one  or  each  dependent  upon  the  other,  they 
are  said  to  be  symbiotic ;  and  biologists  have  discovered 
among  the  members  of  the  plant  family  three  kinds  of 


VEGETABLE    SOCIOLOGY.  89 

symbiosis,  or  "  living  together  " :  mutualism,  helotism, 
and  parasitism. 

1.  Mutualism.     In  this  condition,  two  organisms  of 
different  species  or  genera  live  together  in  a  state  of 
mutual  dependence.     The  members  may  be  of  equal 
rank,  but  each  does  only  a  part  of  the  work.    This 
division  of  labor  may  be  productive  of  mutual  benefit, 
but  inevitably  it  results  in  corresponding  loss  to  each 
individual.     Neglected  powers  lapse,  and  unused  organs 
gradually  disappear  for  want  of  exercise.     The  fungus 
growth  on  the  roots  of  clover  and  some  orchids  and 
club  mosses  are  examples  of  this  abnormal  condition  of 
mutualism  in  plant  life. 

2.  Helotism.     This    condition    is    named    from    the 
word  helot,  which  signifies  serf  or  slave  and  was  ap- 
plied to  the  serving  class  among  the  Spartans.    As  the 
term  implies,  we  find  a  species  of  servitude  existing  in 
the  vegetable  kingdom.    Some  plants  possessing  simple 
organisms,  like  the  algae,  live  in  intimate  relation  with 
plants  of  a  higher  development,  like  the  fungi.    The 
former  serve  in  the  capacity  of  slaves  to  the  latter. 
The  lower  plant  does  all  the  hard  labor,  absorbing  the 
simple  elements  from  the  soil  and  from  the  air  and 
working  them  up  into  complex  substances  which  nour- 
ish the  higher  plant.     The  lichen,  for  example,  instead 
of  being  a  simple  organism,  is  in  reality  a  double 


90  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

plant,  consisting  of  an  alga  and  a  fungus  living  to- 
gether. The  latter  is  the  aristocratic  master.  It 
profits  by  the  toil  of  its  little  slave  and  lives  a  life  of 
luxury  and  indolent  ease.  But  this  genteel  and  idle 
master,  though  free  from  hard  labor,  is  far  from  being 
strong  and  prosperous.  Through  continued  idleness, 
it  has  lost  the  power  to  work,  to  produce  the  essential 
chlorophyll,  and  has  degenerated  into  a  helpless  crea- 
ture dependent  upon  the  generous  support  of  its  faith- 
ful servant. 

3.  Parasitism.  Perhaps  the  most  interesting  and 
instructive  class  of  symbiotic  plants  are  the  parasites. 
These  are  found  in  two  divisions,  the  true  parasites 
and  the  saprophytes.  The  first  class  attach  themselves 
to  some  living  organism — some  industrious  hard-work- 
ing plant.  The  parasite  does  very  little  work  on  its 
own  account ;  it  escapes  part  of  the  toil  and  the  strug- 
gle of  earning  its  livelihood,  by  absorbing  from  its 
host  the  necessaries  of  life  already  prepared.  To  this 
class  belong  the  dodder,  which  is  completely  parasitic, 
and  the  mistletoe,  which  is  partially  so;  the  rusts  and 
the  smuts,  which  attach  themselves  to  cereals ;  and  the 
useless  but  audacious  suckers,  which  sap  the  strength 
of  the  fruit-bearing  plants  and  torment  the  farmer  boy. 
Some  of  these  parasites  are  very  choice  as  to  the 
host  that  shall  sustain  them,  while  others  are  indiffer- 


VEGETABLE    SOCIOLOGY.  91 

ent  and  will  accept  entertainment  from  any  convenient 
source.  The  twining  dodder  with  its  yellowish  or  red- 
dish stems  will  coil  around  any  plant  that  it  meets; 
and,  in  most  cases,  it  stealthily  and  cruelly  strangles  its 
unsuspecting  host.  The  mistletoe  selects  a  tree,  often 
a  fruit-tree,  as  its  host;  and,  for  this  reason,  it  was 
called  by  the  Greeks,  Phoradendron,  the  "  tree-thief." 
The  saprophytes  differ  from  the  true  parasites  only  in 
one  particular.  Instead  of  attaching  themselves  to 
living  plants,  they  feed  on  dead  and  decaying  organ- 
isms. In  this  class  may  be  found  the  moulds,  the  toad- 
stools, the  mushrooms,  the  puffballs,  and  numerous 
animal  and  vegetable  germs. 

The  results  of  parasitism  are  worthy  of  notice.     We 
shall  mention  only  a  few  of  the  more  obvious: 

1.  What  the  true  plant  does  in  different  stages  of  its 
existence,  the  parasite  continues  to  do  throughout  its 
entire  life.    There  is  no  alternation  of  sleep  and  wake- 
fulness,  rest  and  labor,  seed  time  and  harvest.    There  is 
no  progress,  no  development.     It  continues  its  monoto- 
nous round  of  dependence,   until   its   host  has  been 
exhausted  and  death  ends  its  career. 

2.  Another  result  of  parasitism  is  the  loss  of  the 
power  of  protective  adaptation.    True  plants  are  capa- 
ble of  a  variety  of  spontanepus  or  induced  movements, 
which  are  quite  suggestive  of  voluntary  activities.    For 


92  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

protection  and  preservation,  they  adapt  themselves 
automatically  to  light,  temperature,  and  moisture. 
Leaves  turn  their  faces  towards  the  sunlight,  and  tiny 
rootlets  shoot  out  in  the  direction  of  moisture.  When 
the  parasitic  habit  is  complete,  the  plant  loses  the 
power  of  self-protection:  it  can  no  longer  respond  to 
external  stimuli.  It  is  incapable  of  originating  any 
activity  of  its  own  and  is  helplessly  dependent  for  life 
and  protection  upon  the  host  to  which  it  is  attached. 

3.  Another  consequence  of  the  parasitic  habit  is  the 
degeneration  of  special  organs.     While  the  parasite 
secures  its  livelihood  by  absorption  from  its  host  with- 
out work  or  worry,  it  sacrifices  the  delicate  mechanism 
which  the  true  plant  must  build  up  for  itself  at  such 
great  expense. 

4.  Perhaps  the  most  conspicuous  and  the  most  fatal 
consequence  of  parasitism  is  the  loss  of  the  chlorophyll, 
that  mysterious  substance  that  is  so  essential  to  the 
highest  welfare  of  vegetable  being.     It  has  no  power  to 
absorb    and    assimilate   the   energy    of   the    sunlight. 
Without  chlorophyll,  the  plant  has  no  direct  affinity 
with  the  source  of  life.     This  is  the  primal  cause  of  its 
degeneration.     In  the  plant  world,  as  in  the  human 
world,  degeneration  is  the  price  of  indolence. 


XII.     PERSEUS    AND    MEDUSA. 

THE  mythology  of  the  ancient  world  gives  prominence 
to  a  group  of  popular  stories  known  as  "  Sun  Myths." 
To  this  group  belong  the  stories  of  Hercules,  Theseus, 
CEdipus,  Phaeton,  Endymion,  Perseus,  and  other  solar 
heroes.  In  all  these  stories,  the  hero  represents  the 
sun  or  the  light.  Born  of  the  darkness  or  of  the  dawn, 
he  is  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  mountain  wilds  or  ocean 
wastes,  because  some  oracle  has  predicted  that  he  would 
slay  his  parent — the  darkness  from  which  he  has 
sprung.  After  a  season  of  perilous  wandering,  he  is 
finally  rescued,  and  is  forced  upon  a  long  journey  into 
distant  lands  to  perform  some  difficult  and  hazardous 
task.  He  represents  the  light  of  the  sun,  journeying 
northward  to  the  solstice,  dispelling  the  darkness  and 
the  mist,  overcoming  the  power  of  the  frost  king,  and 
giving  new  life  to  the  forces  of  nature. 

The  story  of  Perseus  and  the  Gorgon  is  a  typical 
solar  myth.  Perseus  is  the  son  of  Jupiter,  the  god  of 
the  sky,  and  Danae,  the  Dawn,  daughter  of  King 
Acrisius,  the  representative  of  darkness.  Like  other 
solar  heroes,  he  is  cast  adrift  shortly  after  his  birth,  in 

93 


94  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

the  hope  that  he  may  perish,  because  the  oracle  has 
predicted  that  King  Acrisius  will  some  day  be  slain  by 
his  grandson.  Perseus  and  his  mother  are  placed  in  a 
chest  and,  for  a  long  time,  float  upon  the  sea.  At  last 
they  are  cast  ashore  in  the  kingdom  of  Polydectes, 
where  Perseus  develops  into  a  sturdy,  manly  youth,  a 
favorite  of  men  and  of  gods.  The  king  woos  the  fair 
Danse;  and  Perseus  is  sent  to  the  distant  land  of  the 
north,  the  home  of  the  mist  and  the  darkness,  with  the 
injunction  that  he  must  find  and  slay  the  terrible 
Medusa  and  bring  her  head  as  a  bridal  gift  to  grace 
the  nuptials  of  his  mother  and  his  guardian  king. 

This  Medusa  was  one  of  three  famous  sisters  who 
lived  in  the  far  north  where  the  sun  never  shone,  and 
where  the  earth  was  mantled  in  unbroken  darkness  and 
covered  with  perpetual  snow.  As  a  girl,  Medusa  had 
been  far-famed  for  the  beauty  of  her  comely  face,  her 
shapely  form,  and  her  long  curling  tresses.  Her  som- 
ber brow  was  crowned  with  the  storm-cloud,  and  her 
dark  eyes  flashed  forth  a  fire  that  illumined  the  dreary 
region  of  the  Pole.  But  Medusa  was  unhappy  and 
dissatisfied  with  her  home.  She  wished  to  live  in  the 
land  of  the  south,  where  the  sun  always  shone  and  the 
flowers  ever  bloomed,  and  where,  moreover,  her  beauty 
could  be  seen  and  admired  by  gods  and  mortals.  Vain 
of  her  beauty  and  conceited,  as  some  beautiful  girls  are 


PERSEUS    AND    MEDUSA.  95 

too  apt  to  be,  she  besought  Minerva  to  permit  her  to 
visit  the  sunny  southland.  When  Minerva  declined, 
she  reviled  the  goddess  and  declared  that  she  envied 
and  feared  Medusa's  beauty;  that,  if  men  once  beheld 
her  own  comely  face  and  beautiful  locks,  they  would 
no  longer  consider  the  goddess  beautiful.  Minerva  was 
so  incensed  by  Medusa's  insolent  slanders  that  she 
decided  to  punish  her  for  her  arrogance  and  presump- 
tion. Accordingly  she  changed  her  long,  beautiful 
locks  into  hissing  snakes,  which  writhed  and  coiled  and 
twisted  about  her  neck  and  body ;  and,  though  she  per- 
mitted her  face  to  retain  its  beauty,  she  declared  that 
one  glance  into  it  should  change  the  unfortunate 
beholder  into  stone. 

The  task  assigned  to  Perseus  as  a  test  of  his  valor 
and  devotion  was  the  finding  and  slaying  of  this  ter- 
rible Medusa  with  her  snaky  locks  and  face  of  fatal 
beauty.  He  at  once  began  to  prepare  for  his  dangerous 
enterprise.  The  gods  who  had  so  carefully  watched 
over  his  childhood  and  youth  were  interested  in  his  suc- 
cess and  offered  their  aid.  Pluto,  the  god  of  the  under- 
world, who  controls  the  unknown  treasures  embosomed 
in  land  and  sea,  gave  him  the  magic  helmet,  which  had 
the  power  of  making  the  wearer  invisible  at  will.  Min- 
erva, the  goddess  of  wisdom,  armed  him  with  her  won- 
derful aegis,  her  polished,  mirror-like  shield,  which 


96 


would  enable  him  to  see  things  by  their  reflection  upon 
its  surface  without  looking  at  the  objects  themselves. 
Mercury,  the  patron  deity  of  speech  and  of  music,  the 
embassador  of  high  Olympus,  put  upon  Perseus's  feet 
his  own  winged  shoes,  that  he  might  be  endowed  with 
great  power  of  flight ;  and  he  gave  him,  besides,  a  short 
curved  sword  for  defense  or  attack. 

Thus  equipped  by  the  gods,  he  proceeded  to  that 
mysterious  region  inhabited  by  the  "  Gray  Maids  of 
the  Mist,"  who  guarded  the  approaches  to  the  land  of 
the  Gorgon.  By  strategy,  he  extracted  from  these  an- 
cient maidens  many  valuable  secrets;  he  learned  from 
them  the  way  to  the  abode  of  the  nymphs,  who  placed 
at  his  service  their  richest  possessions  and  directed  him 
to  the  hiding-place  of  the  Gorgon.  Perseus,  aided  by 
the  winged  shoes  of  Mercury,  proceeded  in  his  north- 
ward flight  to  the  land  of  perpetual  darkness  and  dis- 
covered the  secret  dwelling-place  of  Medusa.  The  floor 
of  her  cave  was  strewn  with  the  petrified  bodies  of 
those  who  had  been  lured  to  gaze  upon  her  fatal  beauty, 
and  the  air  was  filled  with  the  weird  lullaby  of  the 
hissing  serpents  as  they  sang  the  horrible  Gorgon  to 
sleep.  But  the  magic  helmet  of  Pluto  made  him  in- 
visible; the  mirror-like  shield  of  Minerva  enabled  him 
to  see  the  reflection  of  the  fatal  face  of  the  sleeping 
Medusa;  and  a  well-directed  blow  with  the  sword  of 


PERSEUS    AND    MEDUSA.  97 

Mercury  severed  from  the  body  the  terrible  head,  which 
he  carried  home  in  triumph  to  his  king. 

Such  is  the  mythical  story  of  Perseus  and  Medusa.  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  give  a  critical  analysis  of  the 
story,  or  to  unravel  the  mystic  message  that  its  sym- 
bolism conveyed  to  the  people  of  the  ancient  world.  I 
am  concerned  only  with  the  practical  lessons  it  con- 
tains for  us.  Considered  as  an  allegory,  the  story  is 
richly  instructive.  It  is  a  prophecy  of  the  individual's 
career  and  destiny  in  modern  life.  The  true  hero  of 
today  is  endowed  with  wondrous  powers,  and  is  sent 
out  into  the  world  to  mitigate  the  wrong,  to  dispel  the 
darkness  and  superstition,  and  to  destroy  the  Medusas 
that  lure  men  to  destruction.  Every  young  man  and 
young  woman  in  school  or  college  is  a  modern  Perseus 
endowed  with  mighty  powers  and  intrusted  with  a 
great  mission.  You  are  here,  today,  undergoing  pre- 
paration for  the  serious  purposes  of  the  life  that  lies 
before  you.  The  gods  that  aided  in  the  equipment  of 
Perseus  are  ready  to  assist  in  your  preparation.  In 
ancient  myth  and  fable,  the  forces  and  powers  of  na- 
ture, the  elements  of  knowledge,  and  the  various  arts 
and  sciences  were  personified  and  deified.  Pluto  was 
the  god  of  the  underworld,  the  personification  of  the 
wonderful  wealth  that  lies  beneath  the  earth's  surface, 
the  marvelous  energies  and  mysterious  agencies  that 


98  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

are  revealed  to  modern  life  by  mathematics  and  the 
natural  sciences.  The  magic  helmet  of  Pluto  is  here 
placed  at  your  service.  Physics  gives  you  the  mastery 
of  matter  and  its  laws,  electrical  science  equips  you  with 
a  giant's  power,  chemistry  and  biology  introduce  you 
into  the  secret  chambers  of  creative  power,  and  geology 
enables  you  to  read  the  handwriting  of  God  in  the 
strata  of  the  earth.  Fundamental  to  all  science  is  the 
science  of  mathematics :  all  nature  is  based  upon  exact 
mathematical  laws.  The  mastery  of  these  sciences 
will  make  you  the  possessor  of  the  magic  helmet  of 
Pluto,  which  we  are  told  has  the  power  to  make  the 
wearer  invisible  at  will.  The  greatest  factors  of  mod- 
ern life  are  invisible;  the  most  potent  influences  are 
impersonal.  The  progress  of  civilization  involves  per- 
sonal elimination.  Ignorance  cannot  extend  its  in- 
fluence in  time  or  space  very  far  beyond  the  personal 
presence  of  the  individual.  Knowledge  and  skill  and 
the  power  of  invention  make  possible  the  operation  of 
beneficent  forces  and  influences  that  are  far  removed 
from  the  creative  personality.  The  most  telling  forces 
in  our  daily  life  are  impersonal.  As  we  read  a  book,  a 
magazine  or  a  daily  paper,  we  may  not  see  the  active 
personality  behind  it.  The  great  lights  of  literature 
from  Homer  to  Shakespeare  and  Tennyson  wear  the 
magic  helmet  of  Pluto,  because  the  printing-press  has 


PEESEUS   AND    MEDUSA.  99 

multiplied  and  extended  their  impersonal  power.  The 
personalities  of  Morse  and  Bell,  Edison  and  Howe,  are 
merged  in  their  great  inventions.  The  individuals  are 
invisible,  but  time  and  space  cannot  limit  their  in- 
fluence. The  man  dies  and  is  forgotten,  but  he  leaves 
an  invention  which  will  multiply  his  power  for  good 
throughout  all  the  ages  of  the  future.  Every  inven- 
tion of  the  nineteenth  century  illustrates  the  power  of 
an  invisible  personality.  The  inventor  wears  the  magic 
helmet  of  Pluto. 

Wealth  also  makes  possible  the  impersonal  and  in- 
visible power  of  the  individual.  The  coal  and  the  iron, 
the  silver  and  the  gold  of  the  underworld  belong  to 
the  realm  of  Pluto,  and  are  at  the  disposal  of  man  for 
the  suppression  of  evil  and  the  elevation  of  the  race. 
It  is  not  the  possession,  but  the  abuse  of  wealth  that  is 
ignoble.  Riches  used  to  gratify  selfishness  and  to  dis- 
play the  personal  element,  are  invariably  condemned 
as  mean  and  vulgar.  The  wealthy  philanthropist  may 
live  in  obscurity,  unobserved  of  men;  but  the  hospitals 
and  asylums,  libraries  and  colleges  he  has  builded  are 
powerful  impersonal  influences  that  will  go  down 
through  the  ages,  alleviating  pain,  succoring  the  unfor- 
tunate and  dispelling  the  darkness  of  ignorance,  long 
after  he  is  dead  and  his  name  and  habitation  are  for- 
gotten among  men.  George  Peabody,  John  McDonough 


100  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

and  Peter  Cooper,  John  Harvard,  Ezra  Cornell  and 
Paul  Tulane  are  mouldering  in  the  earth,  but  their 
impersonal  influence  will  long  continue  to  bless  man- 
kind. They  wear  the  magic  helmet  of  Pluto.  The  first 
great  lesson  taught  us  by  the  sun-myth  is  the  secret  of 
power  through  eliminated  personality.  It  is  the  lesson 
taught  by  Christ  when  he  says :  "  He  that  loseth  his 
life  for  my  sake,  shall  find  it." 

The  mirror-like  shield  of  Minerva  enabled  Perseus  to 
destroy  the  Medusa  merely  by  looking  at  the  reflection 
of  the  fatal  face.  He  had  faith  in  the  power  of  the 
shining  surface  to  reflect  the  reality.  Too  many  young 
people  are  not  wise  and  cautious  enough  to  profit  by 
the  experience  of  others.  The  boy  is  skeptical  and  has 
no  faith  in  his  father's  judgment;  he  must  see  things 
for  himself;  he  must  bring  the  follies  and  vices  of  the 
world  within  the  range  of  his  own  senses — he  must 
gaze  upon  the  fatal  beauty  of  the  Medusa.  No  wonder 
the  caverns  of  politics,  business,  and  society  are  paved 
with  petrified  lives !  Listen  to  the  voice  of  experience ; 
read  the  records  of  the  ages.  History  is  the  wonderful 
aegis  of  Minerva  that  reflects  upon  polished  surface  the 
vices  and  follies  of  the  world  and  serves  for  protection 
to  its  possessor.  The  old  adage,  "  The  young  man  must 
sow  his  wild  oats,"  is  without  justification,  for  what 
he  sows  he  must  invariably  reap.  Young  people  need 


PEBSEUS  AND  MEDUSA.  101 

not  see  for  themselves  the  vices  of  the  great  city  in 
order  to  avoid  them  or  to  destroy  them.  In  the  morn- 
ing paper  they  may  behold  the  image  of  life's  fatal 
illusions  without  leaving  their  own  firesides.  The  habit 
of  "  slumming "  indulged  in  by  many  good  people  is 
utterly  inexcusable.  Let  them  turn  their  backs  on 
Medusa  and  keep  their  eyes  upon  the  shield  of  Minerva. 
With  your  eyes  fixed  upon  history  and  literature  as 
your  shield,  and  your  backs  turned  to  the  follies 
and  vices  of  the  world,  you  will  escape  the  heart- 
hardening  and  conscience-searing  effects  of  life's  Med- 
usas. 

But  your  preparation  requires  not  only  the  mastery 
of  mathematics  and  natural  science,  but  also  of  lan- 
guage and  music,  the  vehicles  of  intellectual  and  emo- 
tional expression.  These  are  the  "winged  shoes"  of 
Mercury,  the  god  of  speech  and  of  music.  Words  have 
been  fittingly  called  the  wings  of  thought.  Upon  the 
pinions  of  language,  Homer  and  Virgil,  Plato  and 
Aristotle,  have  come  down  through  the  ages ;  and  their 
invisible  personalities  are  still  potent  in  the  life  of  the 
world.  Luther  and  Wesley,  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare, 
Bacon  and  Descartes,  are  a  millionfold  more  powerful 
today  than  when  they  lived  upon  the  earth.  The 
music  of  Mendelssohn  and  Handel  still  wings  its  flight 
through  the  years ;  and  though  far  removed  from  their 


102  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

limited  personalities,  its  ever-increasing  volume  multi- 
plies its  blessings  to  the  world. 

The  equipment  of  Perseus  typifies  practically  the 
entire  curriculum  of  the  school.  When  you  are  truly 
the  possessor  of  this  equipment,  you  may,  like  Perseus, 
force  the  "  Gray  Maids  of  the  Mists  "  to  give  up  their 
secrets  and  discover  the  path  that  will  lead  you  to  the 
rich  possessions  of  the  nymphs  that  live  in  the  rocks, 
the  woods,  and  the  meadows ;  in  river,  ocean,  and  cloud- 
land.  Like  the  great  and  good  of  all  ages,  you  will  be 
endowed  with  the  power  of  an  invisible  personality, 
conferred  by  the  magic  helmet  of  Pluto;  the  aegis  of 
recorded  truth  will  protect  you  by  revealing  to  you  the 
image  of  the  wrong  to  be  overcome ;  and  the  "  winged 
shoes  "  of  Mercury  will  carry  your  faith  and  your  in- 
fluence down  the  years  of  the  future,  until  at  last  the 
head  of  the  Gorgon  shall  be  severed  by  the  sword  of 
Eternal  Truth.  "  Put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God, 
that  ye  may  be  able  to  stand  against  the  wiles  of  the 
devil."  Paul  doubtless  had  in  mind  the  old  pagan 
sun-myth  of  Perseus,  when  he  exhorted  the  Ephesians 
to  have  their  feet  "shod  with  the  preparation  of  the 
gospel  of  peace,"  to  take  the  "shield  of  faith,"  the 
"  helmet  of  salvation,"  and  the  "  sword  of  the  Spirit " 
— the  word  of  Truth.  Resolve,  then,  to  do  something 
while  you  live  that  will  be  an  influence  for  good  in  the 


PEESEUS   AND    MEDUSA.  103 

world  when  you  are  gone;  and  remember  that  a  great 
mission  in  life  requires  great  preparation.  All  the 
powers  of  earth  and  heaven  are  ready  to  assist  you; 
all  the  gods  are  ready  to  contribute  to  your  success. 


XIII.    WEALTH   AND   POVERTY. 

"  The  ferns  loved  the  mountains, 
The  mosses  the  moor ; 
The  ferns  were  the  rich, 
The  mosses  the  poor." 

THESE  suggestive  lines  I  found  by  accident,  while 
spending  an  idle  hour  in  a  quaint  old  book-shop  rich 
in  curious  volumes,  many  of  them  published  before  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century.  These  lines  of 
poetry  embody  the  conclusion  of  an  interesting  old 
legend  which  runs  in  this  fashion :  In  the  long,  long 
ago,  the  ferns  and  the  mosses  dwelt  together  in  peace 
and  amity.  They  lived  in  a  broad  fertile  plain  where 
all  the  conditions  of  life  were  favorable :  the  sun  shone 
brightly  by  day,  and  the  dews  of  evening  provided 
abundant  moisture ;  the  air  was  balmy,  and  the  breezes 
that  swept  over  the  plain  brought  health  and  happiness 
to  the  mosses  and  the  ferns  alike.  The  ferns  became 
tall,  stately  trees,  stretching  their  graceful  trunks  to- 
wards heaven;  and  their  richly  colored  foliage  drank 
in  the  dew  and  the  sunshine.  On  account  of  their  thrift 
and  prosperity,  their  richly  colored  dress  and  their 
splendid  proportions,  they  were  envied  by  all  the  other 

104 


WEALTH    AND    POVEETY.  105 

vegetable  inhabitants  of  that  land.  The  mosses  at  their 
feet  kept  their  roots  supplied  with  abundant  moisture 
and  thus  gave  life  and  energy  and  beauty  to  their 
stately  companions.  The  mosses  themselves  were  like- 
wise benefited,  and  prospered  by  their  mutual  sym- 
pathy and  association.  The  roots  of  the  fern  gave 
them  warmth  and  energy  through  the  soil,  and  the 
leafy  foliage  protected  them  from  the  scorching  heat  of 
the  midday  sun.  The  mosses  grew  large  in  size  and  rich 
in  verdure  and  rejoiced  in  the  beauty  and  munificence 
of  their  stately  protectors.  But,  alas,  there  came  an 
unfortunate  day  when  the  ferns  and  the  mosses  had  a 
quarrel;  they  could  no  longer  live  together  in  sweet 
sympathy  and  helpfulness;  they  could  no  longer  dwell 
together  in  that  beautiful  plain,  each  enriching  the  life 
of  the  other;  and  they  agreed  to  part.  Hereafter  each 
would  live  to  himself  and  go  through  life  alone.  So  we 
are  told : 

"  The  ferns  loved  the  mountains, 
The  mosses  the  moor." 

The  ambitious  ferns  climbed  up  the  steep  mountain 
side,  and  some  of  the  more  ambitious  planted  them- 
selves on  the  very  summit,  so  th.it  they  might  look  down 
from  a  greater  height  upon  their  former  companions 
in  the  plain. 


106  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

The  mosses,  on  the  other  hand,  wandered  downward 
to  the  low  marshland  and  the  moor.  But  after  the 
lapse  of  time,  the  ferns  and  the  mosses  both  came  to 
grief.  Each  class  sadly  missed  the  other  and  grew 
unhappy  in  its  loneliness.  The  ferns  no  longer  had 
the  mosses  to  retain  the  moisture  about  their  roots,  and 
gradually  they  became  less  thrifty  and  less  prosperous. 
In  time  they  lost  their  stateliness  and  their  leafy 
luxuriance  and  dwindled  away,  until  they  became  mere 
shrubs.  The  stately  trees  of  the  plain  now  had  become 
mere  dwarfs  in  stature,  as  compared  with  their  forest 
companions.  Those  that  climbed  the  nearest  to  the 
crest  of  the  mountain  were  the  greatest  sufferers;  the 
higher  they  climbed,  the  greater  their  loss  in  stature 
and  in  verdure,  because  of  the  thinness,  of  the  soil  and 
the  scarcity  of  moisture. 

The  mosses  were  likewise  unfortunate.  They  missed 
the  sheltering  shade  and  grateful  protection  of  the 
stately  fern  trees  of  the  plain.  They  lost  in  vigor  and 
in  richness  of  verdure  and  dwindled  into  mere  colorless 
lichens  and  other  homely  parasitic  forms.  Their  soli- 
tary lives  became  joyless  and  hopeless;  they  must  now 
submit  to  a  dreary  existence  in  the  desolate  moor, 
amidst  the  dead  and  the  dying  of  the  vegetable  king- 
dom. 

The  legend  suggests  lessons  of  importance  in  social 


WEALTH    AND    POVERTY.  107 

economy.  The  ferns  and  the  mosses  typify  two  great 
classes  of  human  society,  and  the  legend  illustrates 
their  interdependence. 

"  The  ferns  were  the  rich, 
The  mosses  the  poor." 

No  man  liveth  unto  himself.  He  is  part  of  a  social 
organism.  Every  member  of  society  is  dependent  upon 
every  other  member.  The  welfare  of  all  depends  upon 
the  prosperity  of  each;  and  the  success  of  the  indi- 
vidual in  any  sphere  is,  in  an  important  sense,  the  con- 
tribution of  the  society  of  which  he  is  a  member.  The 
wealth  of  the  few  depends  upon  the  productive  power 
of  the  many.  The  poor  contribute  to  the  wealth  of  the 
rich ;  they  may  make  or  unmake  the  laws  that  protect 
this  wealth;  they  become  the  soldiers  who  fight  the 
battles,  when  home  and  country  are  threatened  with 
marauders  or  with  the  invasion  of  a  foreign  foe.  The 
rich  need  the  help  of  the  poor. 

In  a  large  measure,  the  rich  are  indebted  for  their 
wealth  to  the  laws  and  institutions  of  society.  Our 
laws,  our  society,  our  social  and  civil  institutions  that 
make  our  wealth  possible,  are  not  of  our  own  making ; 
they  are  our  inheritance  from  the  past,  and  we  are 
under  obligations  to  transmit  them  to  those  who  come 
after  us.  The  opportunities  and  the  talents  we  have 


108  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

received  as  gifts  from  the  past,  we  should  turn  over 
with  interest  to  the  future.  The  rich  are  under  obliga- 
tions to  the  poor,  and  the  presence  of  the  poor  gives 
the  opportunity  for  the  discharge  of  these  obligations. 
A  man  by  himself  alone  cannot  become  rich. 

The  cultured  man  likewise  is  indebted  to  society 
as  a  whole.  The  conditions  that  have  enabled  him  to 
acquire  an  education  are  largely  inherited  from  the 
past.  Our  culture  is  the  accumulation  of  the  ages, 
which  has  been  entrusted  into  our  hands.  It  is  our 
duty  to  transmit  it  to  the  future  with  interest.  Indi- 
vidual culture  is  enhanced  in  value  by  sharing  it  with 
the  world.  The  individual  alone,  isolated  from  the  life 
of  the  people,  cannot  be  truly  cultured. 

The  individual  by  himself  cannot  develop  a  high 
state  of  morality.  Morality  is  a  social  affair ;  the  indi- 
vidual must  develop  into  a  social  being,  which  is  the 
higher  self,  by  contact  and  interchange  with  his  fellows. 
The  hermit  who  hides  in  his  cell  to  escape  the  temp- 
tations of  life  can  never  become  morally  strong.  If 
we  search  the  pages  of  the  past,  we  will  find  that  the 
men  of  the  greatest  moral  strength,  the  noblest  types 
of  spirituality,  were  the  friends  of  the  poor.  From 
Socrates  to  Emerson,  from  Christ  to  Tolstoi,  the  great- 
est philosophers  and  reformers  of  the  world  have  lived 
close  to  the  hearts  of  the  people.  The  presence  of  pov- 


WEALTH    AND    POVERTY.  109 

erty  is  an  essential  condition  in  the  development  of  the 
soul's  divinest  qualities.  The  rich  man  who  turns  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  cry  of  poverty  and  closes  his  heart  to 
the  needs  of  the  people  shuts  out  from  his  soul  the  dew 
of  heaven  and  in  the  end  becomes  a  spiritual  dwarf. 
The  higher  he  climbs  his  mountain  of  greed,  the  farther 
away  he  gets  in  his  selfish  exclusiveness,  the  more 
stunted  his  development,  the  smaller  the  dimensions 
of  his  soul.  The  poor,  on  the  other  hand,  need  the 
protection  that  wealth  can  give;  they  need  the  op- 
portunity that  wealth  can  provide  to  save  them  from 
discouragement;  they  need  the  hope  that  wealth  can 
inspire  to  keep  them  from  despair.  Removed  from  the 
opportunity  and  the  hope  inspired  by  the  heart-beats 
of  wealth,  they  wander  into  the  moors  and  the  marshes 
of  life  and  become  serfs  or  criminals.  All  wealth  is 
not  bad;  all  poverty  is  not  mean.  Wealth  may  be  a 
blessing  to  its  possessor  and  to  the  world,  if  used  for 
the  relief  and  the  uplifting  of  the  race.  It  may  prove 
a  curse  and  a  soul-destroyer  if  hoarded  for  selfish  grati- 
fication. Poverty  may  be  useful  and  honorable  so  long 
as  it  provides  life-giving  moisture  at  the  very  roots 
of  humanity;  it  may  be  useless  and  degrading  as  a 
colorless  lichen,  feeding  upon  the  decaying  branches  of 
society.  The  rich  and  the  poor  in  this  world  have  been 
made  for  each  other.  From  sympathy  and  cooperation 


110  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

and  harmony  must  develop  blessing  and  happiness 
to  all.  From  separation  and  selfish  isolation  will 
result,  on  the  one  hand,  a  class  of  stunted  para- 
lytics and  spiritual  decrepits,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  class  of  physical  and  moral  degenerates.  Life  is 
one ;  humanity  is  one ;  God  is  One ;  and  we  all  are  His 
children. 

Wealth  in  itself  has  no  intellectual,  moral,  or  spir- 
itual values.  It  is  good  only  to  the  degree  that  it  is 
convertible  into  noble  uses  and  provides  the  condi- 
tions of  individual  and  social  betterment.  To  reach 
its  highest  value,  wealth  must  modify  the  environment 
and  provide  physical  conditions  that  are  favorable  to 
the  production  of  higher  values  in  the  individual  and 
in  the  state.  It  may  be  transformed  into  schools  and 
libraries,  museums  and  parks  that  will  disseminate 
intellectual  and  aesthetic  culture;  it  may  be  trans- 
formed into  books  and  newspapers,  magazines  and 
paintings,  and  a  thousand  forms  that  will  elevate  the 
race.  Coal  and  iron  ore  and  clay  may  be  transmuted 
into  ideas,  and  the  raw  material  of  earth  may  be  spirit- 
ualized into  noble  ideals.  The- possibilities  of  wealth 
are  beyond  human  calculation;  the  responsibilities 
of  wealth  can  scarcely  be  realized.  The  problem 
that  confronts  the  rich  man,  is  the  transformation  of 
his  wealth  into  blessings  for  humanity ;  the  transmuta- 


WEALTH    AND    POVERTY.  Ill 

tion  of  mud,  by  the  alchemy  of  the  soul,  into  golden 
bricks  for  the  pavement  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  The 
law  of  transmutation  is  the  most  mysterious  and  yet 
the  most  universal  law  in  all  nature.  Inorganic  matter 
is  changed  into  vegetable  matter;  and  this  in  turn,  is 
changed  into  animal  tissue,  blood,  and  brain,  and  all 
that  makes  up  the  body  of  man.  But  the  law  does  not 
stop  here.  We  do  not  understand  the  process;  but 
blood  and  tissue  and  brain  cells  are  transmuted  into 
thought  and  feeling,  intellect  and  will,  and  these  in 
turn  may  become  spiritual  powers  that  lift  humanity 
into  the  atmosphere  of  the  divine.  This  is  indeed  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven  within  us,  built  up  from  the  raw 
material  of  earth,  through  a  series  of  transmutations. 
This  is  the  mystery  of  conversion.  That  soul  is  itself 
unconverted,  that  has  not  learned  the  secret  of  con- 
verting its  material  possessions  into  spiritual  forces. 
True  conversion  must  begin  with  the  material ;  he  who 
would  convert  human  souls  must  begin  by  converting 
his  wealth,  his  talents,  his  physical  and  intellectual 
powers,  into  spiritual  forces. 

This  is  the  great  law  of  being  to  which  all  nature 
is  subject.  Every  plant  and  shrub,  every  leaf  and 
flower,  every  animal  that  breathes  the  air,  finds  its 
destiny  and  its  glory  in  rendering  obedience  to  this 
universal  law.  Each  transforms  the  lower  elements 


112  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

of  its  life  into  higher  forms,  and  all  nature,  by  this 
unending  series  of  transmutations,  attests  for  man — 

"One  God,  one  law,  one  element, 
And  one  far-off  divine  event, 
To  which  the  whole  creation  moves." 


XIV.    HISTORICAL   IDEALS. 

"  I  will  make  all  my  goodness  pass  before  thee." — Exodus  xxxiii 
19. 

THE  ideal  is  the  real  measure  of  the  character  of  an 
individual,  of  a  nation,  and  of  civilization.  What  we 
call  progress  in  the  individual  consists  in  his  passage 
through  a  succession  of  ideals,  each  in  turn  lifting  him 
to  a  higher  plane,  and  each,  for  the  time,  dominating 
his  life  and  directing  his  activities.  To  the  boy  of  six 
years,  the  acme  of  human  glory  is  to  sit  on  the  cab- 
man's box  and  wield  those  suggestive  instruments  of 
power,  the  whip  and  the  reins.  Then,  perhaps,  in  rapid 
succession,  he  is  a  street-car  motorman,  a  locomotive 
engineer,  a  policeman,  a  western  detective,  a  great 
preacher,  doctor,  or  lawyer.  While  each  ideal  may 
vanish  before  it  is  realized,  it  exercises  a  potent  in- 
fluence in  shaping  the  life  of  the  man.  At  every  stage 
of  his  development,  the  measure  of  his  actual  life  is 
found  in  his  dominant  ideal. 

Progress  in  a  nation's  history  consists  in  the  sub- 
stitution of  higher  and  broader  ideals  for  those  that 
are  low  and  narrow.  These  ever-shifting  standards 

113 


114  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

of  national  achievement  mold  the  character  of  the 
people  and  determine  the  activities  of  the  nation,  both 
at  home  and  abroad.  The  character  of  a  nation  at  any 
period  in  its  history  may  be  determined  by  the  study 
of  its  dominant  ideal. 

The  progress  of  civilization  as  a  whole  is  likewise 
marked  by  a  succession  of  ideals.  The  student  of  his- 
tory may  trace  in  the  course  of  the  centuries  that  are 
past  the  rise  and  fall  of  ideals  which  have  provided 
the  motive  forces  of  human  endeavor,  and  which  have 
given  shape  and  direction  to  the  destinies  of  nations. 
That  is  a  very  suggestive  incident  given  us  in  the  life 
of  Moses.  He  had  been  on  the  mountain,  as  you  will 
remember,  where  he  had  seen  wondrous  manifestations 
of  the  great  attributes  of  Jehovah ;  he  had  seen  the 
most  startling  expressions  of  God's  power,  wisdom  and 
justice;  but,  still  dissatisfied,  he  asked,  "Now,  Lord, 
show  me  thy  glory."  "  And  the  Lord  answered  and  said 
unto  him,  I  will  make  all  my  goodness  pass  before 
thee."  The  lesson  is  very  direct  and  very  simple;  the 
glory  of  God  consists  not  in  His  power,  not  in  His 
justice,  not  in  His  wisdom,  but  in  His  goodness — "  I 
will  make  all  my  goodness  pass  before  thee." 

In  every  age,  the  ideals  of  a  people  are  embodied  in 
the  object  of  their  worship.  The  attributes  of  their 
gods  are  the  qualities  most  admired  in  men.  In  the 


HISTORICAL    IDEALS.  115 

world's  early  civilizations,  physical  power  was  ideal- 
ized. The  greatest  man  was  the  man  of  muscle  and 
brawn,  the  man  who  could  conquer  his  enemies  by 
physical  power.  Such  men  were  selected  to  lead  their 
armies  and  to  rule  as  kings  and  emperors.  The  su- 
preme attribute  of  their  deity  was  power,  and  their 
governments  were  absolute  monarchies.  Physical 
power  was  the  object  of  worship  and  the  ideal  of  social 
and  civic  life. 

In  the  Hebrew  theocracy,  we  find  the  attribute  of 
justice  idealized.  The  laws  of  the  people  required  "  eye 
for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth,  hand  for  hand,  foot  for  foot, 
burning  for  burning,  wound  for  wound,  stripe  for 
stripe."  Strict  justice,  untempered  by  mercy,  is  not 
the  noblest  attribute  of  God,  nor  the  highest  ideal  of 
man.  Later,  as  in  the  civilization  of  the  Greeks,  we 
find  the  element  of  wisdom  idealized.  Art  and  phil- 
osophy are  elevated  to  the  loftiest  pedestals.  Minerva, 
the  goddess  of  wisdom,  is  worshiped;  and  the  knowl- 
edge and  culture  characteristic  of  Greek  civilization 
still  challenges  the  admiration  of  the  world. 

The  attributes  of  power,  justice,  and  wisdom  still 
continue  as  elements  in  our  modern  ideals.  The  ele- 
ment of  power  still  holds  a  dominant  place — power 
through  physical  strength,  through  the  influence  of 
wealth  and  possessions,  or  through  the  opportunities 


116  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

of  social  standing  or  official  position.  But  this  ideal 
of  power  is  modified  and  held  in  check  today  by  the 
ideals  of  justice  and  humanity  and  of  the  constantly 
expanding  conception  of  wisdom. 

These  ideals,  however,  singly  or  combined,  do  not 
constitute  the  highest  or  the  noblest  reach  of  indi- 
vidual, social,  or  national  endeavor.  It  is  not 
to  these  that  we  must  look  for  the  glory  of  a 
nation  or  of  civilization.  "  Now,  Lord,  show  me 
thy  glory."  "  I  will  make  all  my  goodness  pass 
before  thee."  Goodness  is  the  most  glorious  attri- 
bute of  Jehovah,  and  the  noblest  ideal  of  man  and  of 
civilization. 

Goodness  as  an  ideal  involves  wisdom  and  justice 
and  power,  but  it  gives  reason  for  their  being.  It  is  not 
necessarily  the  negative  saintly  quality  characterized 
by  the  drooping  eye-lid  and  the  cheerless  face.  Good- 
ness is  an  active,  not  a  negative  trait;  it  does  not  con- 
sist in  the  bad  things  that  you  have  not  done,  but  rather 
in  the  constant  stream  of  good  things  that  flow  out  of 
your  life.  It  is  the  spirit  that  animates  your  sense  of 
justice,  that  guides  your  power,  that  directs  your  wis- 
dom. It  is  that  quality  which  gives  tendency  and  direc- 
tion to  all  your  powers  and  activities,  and  determines 
your  attitude  towards  all  the  difficult  questions  of 
human  life.  It  is  the  oxygen  that  purifies  the  atmos- 


HISTORICAL   IDEALS.  H7 

phere  of  social  and  civil  institutions,  the  sunlight  that 
gives  life  and  joy  and  happiness  to  the  world. 

The  real  test  of  your  moral  character  is  not  your 
power,  your  sense  of  justice,  or  your  wisdom,  but  your 
attitude  towards  those  elements  that  constitute  good- 
ness. Many  people  think  it  a  mark  of  superior  wit  to 
ridicule  goodness,  and  to  speak  lightly  of  truth  and 
honor  and  righteousness.  The  young  man  who  treats 
lightly  these  qualities  in  private  and  social  life,  can- 
not be  trusted  with  the  responsibilities  of  official  sta- 
tion in  the  state  or  the  municipality.  Too  often,  the 
press  of  our  country  is  responsible  for  much  of  the  cor- 
ruption in  public  life  by  its  attitude  of  tolerance 
towards  vice,  and  of  ridicule  and  sneer  towards  re- 
form. Whatever  your  position  in  life  may  be,  I  trust 
that  you  may  ever  place  yourselves  in  fullest  accord, 
and  in  active  cooperation,  with  the  elements  of  good- 
ness in  your  environment ;  that  you  may  cultivate  sym- 
pathy with  truth  and  righteousness,  and  consecrate 
your  lives  to  the  establishment,  in  social  conduct  and 
civic  affairs,  of  this  noblest  ideal  of  life. 

The  process  of  education  involves  the  development 
of  right  ideals;  it  means  the  abandonment  of  childish 
illusions  and  contact  with  the  stern  realities  and  re- 
sponsibilities of  existence.  It  is  natural  for  the  child 
to  look  upon  his  father's  farm  as  a  kingdom  whose 


118  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

wealth  and  resources  can  nowhere  be  surpassed.  The 
boy  thinks  his  father  greater  than  Alexander,  wiser 
than  Solomon  and  richer  than  Croesus.  The  hills  his 
youthful  feet  have  trod  are  to  him  the  highest  in  the 
world,  his  father's  forest  trees  are  the  tallest,  his 
meadows  are  the  greenest,  and  the  winding  stream  that 
flows  past  his  father's  house  is  the  most  beautiful  and 
enchanting  in  all  the  earth.  To  him,  that  mysterious 
circle  on  the  outskirts  of  his  father's  wide  domain, 
where  earth  and  sky  seem  to  meet  in  one  unending 
kiss,  is  the  boundary  line  of  the  universe.  But,  by  and 
by,  there  comes  a  time  when  these  sweet  and  happy 
illusions  of  youth  must  pass  away;  when  the  dreams 
and  ideals  of  childhood,  one  by  one,  must  vanish  and 
yield  to  other  dreams  and  other  ideals.  As  we  rise 
step  by  step  to  a  higher  plane,  the  circle  which  forms 
our  visible  horizon  gradually  recedes  and  discovers  to 
our  astonished  view  a  world  of  beauty  and  of  splendor 
far  beyond,  of  which  we  had  never  dreamed  in  child- 
hood. The  process  of  education  thus  means  the  dis- 
sipation of  old  ideals  as  well  as  the  formation  of  new. 
Some  one  has  wisely  said  that  the  end  of  education 
is  to  lift  us  above  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  we  live ; 
to  enable  us  to  form  an  ideal  of  life  higher  and  nobler 
than  that  of  our  own  generation.  This  does  not  mean 
that  we  are  to  be  out  of  touch  with  life  as  it  is;  the 


HISTORICAL    IDEALS.  119 

higher  does  not  bar  us  from  the  lower,  but  enables  us  to 
pass  through  it  and  beyond  it.  Man's  horizon,  intel- 
lectual and  moral,  should  be  wider  than  his  home, 
wider  than  his  business  or  profession,  wider  than  his 
church,  his  city  or  state,  his  race  or  nationality, 
your  education  does  not  extend  your  field  of  vision, 
widen  the  circle  of  your  influence  and  sympathy  be- 
yond the  present  and  the  immediate,  and  develop  within 
your  soul  ideals  that  are  higher  and  nobler  than  those 
of  the  commercial  age  in  which  you  live,  it  has  failed 
to  achieve  its  highest  purpose. 

As  you  leave  the  school  room  and  enter  the  service 
of  life,  you  will  have  opportunities  to  give  expression 
to  your  highest  ideals.  You  will  manifest  to  the  world 
the  knowledge  and  the  wisdom  you  have  acquired ;  your 
power  will  be  tested  and  your  ideal  of  justice  will 
find  its  adequate  expression.  But,  when  the  challenge 
comes,  as  come  it  will,  "  Show  me  now  thy  glory,"  may 
you  promptly  respond  in  word,  in  deed,  in  life,  "  I 
will  make  all  my  goodness  pass  before  thee." 


XV.    THE   KINGDOM   OF   MAN. 

"  Not  what  I  have,  but  what  I  do  is  my  kingdom." — Carlyle. 

A  KINGDOM  presupposes  a  king,  and  the  real  test  of 
a  king  is  his  power  to  govern  his  kingdom.  His  wealth 
and  wisdom  and  skill  may  be  valuable  aids,  but  the 
measure  of  the  king  is  his  ability  to  rule.  Not  his  pos- 
session, but  his  activity,  is  the  test  of  his  sovereignty. 

The  test  of  a  machine  is  not  what  it  has,  but  what  it 
does.  Its  value  depends  not  upon  the  material  out  of 
which  it  is  made ;  not  upon  its  external  ornamentation 
or  its  beautiful  polished  surface,  but  upon  the  power  to 
accomplish  effectually  the  specific  work  for  which  it 
was  designed.  If  you  want  to  buy  a  watch,  your  first 
concern  is  about  its  ability  to  keep  good  time.  The 
"  movement "  of  the  works  comes  first ;  the  style  of  the 
case  and  the  material  out  of  which  it  is  made  are  sec- 
ondary considerations.  Accuracy  and  reliability  in  the 
measurement  of  time  is  the  realm  in  which  the  watch 
is  expected  to  exercise  dominion.  Not  what  it  has, 
but  what  it  does  is  its  kingdom. 

The  wonderful  forces  of  nature  within  us  and  with- 
120 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    MAN.  121 

out  us  have  very  little  significance  for  us,  apart  from 
their  specific  fields  of  operation.  The  latent  energies 
of  matter  and  of  life  are  of  value  only  because  of  their 
kinetic  possibilities,  their  power  to  work  for  some 
specific  end.  Steam  has  been  known  for  ages  as  a 
powerful  physical  agent;  but  it  remained  valueless  to 
man  until  it  was  imprisoned  in  the  steam-engine  by 
Watt,  in  the  locomotive  by  Stevenson,  and  in  the  steam- 
boat by  Fulton.  Steam  was  discovered,  not  by  analyz- 
ing it,  but  by  finding  out  what  it  could  do.  Electricity 
had  been  vaguely  known  for  centuries ;  but  it  was  only 
a  mysterious  and  an  uncontrolled  evil  genius  to  be 
feared  and  shunned,  until  men  such  as  Franklin  and 
Morse  and  Edison  succeeded  in  finding  what  it  could 
do  for  the  benefit  of  man.  They  discovered  the  kingdom 
of  electricity.  The  true  measure  of  nature's  forces  is 
not  their  composition;  not  what  they  have,  but  what 
they  do.  Steam  is  not  more  powerful  as  an  agent  of 
civilization  because  we  have  learned  that  it  consists  of 
oxygen  and  hydrogen  in  a  vapor  state ;  nor  is  electricity 
any  the  less  powerful  because  we  know  neither  its  na- 
ture nor  the  source  of  its  power.  In  the  organic  world, 
every  plant  and  every  animal  has  its  allotted  field  in 
which  it  exercises  its  peculiar  functions.  When  we  dis- 
cover its  uses,  we  discover  its  kingdom.  "  By  their 
fruits  ye  shall  know  them."  This  is  the  universal  test. 


122  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

The  same  law  applies  to  men  and  women.  The  true 
measure  of  our  life  is  not  found  in  our  wealth,  our 
learning,  or  our  social  position.  It  is  found  in  the 
sphere  of  our  activities.  Conduct  is  the  sum  total  of 
life.  Learning  may  direct  it,  and  wealth  and  social 
position  may  enlarge  its  influence;  but  these  are  after 
all  only  accessories.  It  is  not  our  possessions,  but  our 
actions,  that  count.  "  Not  what  I  have,  but  what  I  do, 
is  my  kingdom."  Your  kingdom  is  the  realm  in  which 
you  rule,  the  domain  in  which  you  exercise  power  and 
authority.  There  are  many  things  in  your  life  over 
which  you  have  no  authority;  there  is  a  wide  domain 
in  which  you  can  exercise  no  choice.  You  did  not 
choose  your  parents  or  the  place  of  your  birth.  You 
are  an  American  citizen,  not  by  choice,  but  by  force  of 
circumstances  over  which  you  had  no  control.  In  those 
matters,  you  are  neither  blameworthy  nor  praise- 
worthy ;  you  are  not  responsible.  You  deserve  no  credit 
whatever  for  the  social  position,  the  good  clothes,  and 
the  many  superior  opportunities  with  which  you  are 
blest.  For  what  you  have,  you  may  not  be  responsible ; 
but  what  you  do  is  your  own  exclusive  domain  over 
which  you  are  sole  ruler,  and  in  which  there  is  none 
to  dispute  your  authority.  In  this  realm  of  conduct 
you  sit  an  absolute  sovereign,  a  king  by  divine  right. 
None  can  dethrone  you  or  share  your  kingdom,  and 


THE   KINGDOM   OF    MAN.  123 

there  is  none  in  whose  favor  you  can  abdicate  your 
power. 

There  are  many  who  pride  themselves  upon  the  su- 
perior gifts  they  have  inherited,  whether  they  be  lands 
or  wealth  or  natural  powers,  forgetful  of  the  fact  that 
they  are  gifts,  in  the  mere  receiving  of  which  there  is 
no  particular  merit,  and  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  the 
possession  of  these  gifts  entails  greater  obligation  and 
increased  responsibility.  Sometimes,  we  find  students 
boasting  of  their  native  wit  and  glorying  in  their 
ability  to  shirk  all  hard  study.  They  rely  upon  luck 
and  inherited  shrewdness  to  carry  them  through  school 
and  through  life  without  work.  The  most  valuable 
talent  you  can  possess  is  the  talent  for  work.  This 
includes  all  other  gifts.  It  is  not  an  inheritance,  but 
a  power  that  each  must  develop  for  himself;  and  the 
test  of  this  power  is  achievement.  As  a  student,  not 
what  you  have,  but  what  you  do,  is  your  kingdom. 

The  test  of  your  power  to  know  and  feel  the  truth  is 
your  power  to  express  it  in  language.  The  test  of  your 
power  to  know  and  desire  the  right  is  your  power  to 
express  it  in  conduct.  An  old  classic  story  tells  us  that 
once  upon  a  time  the  boys  of  Sparta  visited  Athens,  and, 
as  the  guests  of  the  Athenian  boys,  were  assigned  to 
seats  of  honor  in  the  great  amphitheater.  Near  by  were 
the  benches  on  which  sat  the  Athenian  boys.  The  great 


124  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

circular  hall  is  crowded,  and  it  is  nearly  time  for  the 
play  to  begin,  when  an  old  man  comes  limping  down  the 
aisle.  His  hair  is  gray,  his  form  is  bent,  and  he  leans 
heavily  upon  his  staff.  In  vain  he  looks  on  either  side 
for  a  vacant  seat  and  stops  at  last  opposite  the  boys  of 
Athens.  They  laugh  and  jeer  at  the  poor  old  man, 
ridicule  his  bent  form  and  halting  gait ;  but  there  is  not 
one  so  civil  as  to  offer  him  a  seat.  The  Spartan  boys 
beckon  the  old  man  to  come  to  them ;  and  all  rise  up  as 
one  man,  each  offering  his  seat  and  standing  with  un- 
covered head  until  the  old  man  is  seated.  Seeing  this, 
the  Athenian  boys  break  out  in  loud  applause  and  cheer 
the  generous  act  of  the  Spartans.  The  old  man,  slowly 
rising  to  his  feet,  faces  the  vast  assemblage,  and,  with 
a  gesture  of  his  hand,  cries  out  in  a  loud  voice,  "  The 
Athenian  boys  know  what  is  right,  but  the  Spartan 
boys  do  what  is  right."  It  is  not  what  we  know  or 
what  we  desire  that  really  counts,  but  what  we  actually 
do.  Conduct  is  the  index  of  conscience,  the  register  of 
knowledge. 

Christ  uttered  a  divine  truth  when  he  said,  "  A  man's 
life  consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of  the  things  which 
he  possesseth."  The  greatest  danger  of  our  age  is 
the  greed  for  material  possession,  at  the  sacrifice  of  the 
higher  and  nobler  elements  of  life.  Wealth  may  buy  a 
corner  lot  and  build  a  costly  mansion,  but  it  cannot  buy 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    MAN.  125 

hope  and  faith  and  happiness.  Wealth  may  buy  a  great 
library  and  costly  works  of  art,  but  it  cannot  buy  the 
love  of  good  literature  or  the  power  to  appreciate 
and  enjoy  a  Wagner  opera  or  a  Beethoven  symphony, 
as  interpreted  by  the  Thomas  Orchestra.  Such  power  is 
not  a  purchasable  quantity.  A  wealthy  English  woman 
once  said  to  the  great  artist  Turner,  by  way  of  com- 
ment on  one  of  his  paintings,  "  I  never  saw  anything 
like  that  in  nature."  "  Madam,"  was  the  reply,  "  what 
would  you  give  if  you  could?"  The  power  to  appreci- 
ate and  appropriate  the  true  and  the  beautiful  in  na- 
ture and  in  life  is  not  for  sale  in  the  department  store. 
It  is  to  be  obtained  only  upon  the  condition  of  personal 
effort  and  individual  work  and  is  within  the  reach  of 
the  poorest  and  the  humblest. 

We  need  today  to  emphasize  the  doctrine  that  man  is 
a  free  agent,  that  the  individual  is  sovereign  within  the 
limits  of  his  kingdom.  Whatever  we  may  say  of  the 
power  of  heredity,  the  shaping  of  our  own  life  is  our 
own  work.  Whether  it  shall  be  a  thing  of  beauty  and 
of  honor,  or  of  shame  and  infamy,  will  be  as  we  our- 
selves determine,  because  that  is  our  dominion.  "  Not 
what  we  have,  but  what  we  do,  is  our  kingdom." 

We  have  too  long  accepted  the  theory  that  the  condi- 
tions of  social  and  civic  life  which  we  have  received  as 
a  heritage  cannot  be  changed;  that  the  ignorance  and 


126  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

the  vice  inherited  from  the  past  cannot  be  remedied. 
Many  good  people  act  upon  the  theory  that  heredity 
is  omnipotent,  and  that  the  ills  of  the  state  and  of  so- 
ciety cannot  be  cured.  This  doctrine  of  fatalism  leads 
to  hopeless  skepticism.  We  must  make  the  world  better 
by  creating  better  conditions;  we  must  improve  the 
next  generation  by  bequeathing  to  it  a  heritage  of  better 
conditions  and  higher  opportunities.  By  raising  the 
standard  of  intellectual  and  moral  life  in  the  state,  we 
raise  the  standard  of  individual  and  social  life.  Too 
many  people  are  satisfied  with  their  heritage.  "  What 
was  good  enough  for  my  grandfather  is  good  enough 
for  me  and  my  children,"  is  a  remark  too  often  heard 
in  this  day  of  railroads  and  machinery. 

The  life  of  the  State  consists  not  in  the  abundance 
of  its  taxable  values  and  bank  deposits,  nor  yet  in  its 
history  and  cherished  traditions;  but  in  the  facilities 
it  provides  for  the  development  of  a  noble,  intelligent, 
and  virtuous  citizenship.  The  life  of  the  Church  con- 
sists not  in  the  venerable  creeds  and  forms  and  archi- 
tectural piles  it  has  inherited  from  a  mediaeval  age,  but 
in  those  higher  elements  of  spiritual  life  and  activity 
which  shall  elevate  the  race  and  redeem  humanity.  Not 
what  it  has,  but  what  it  does,  is  the  kingdom  of  the 
State,  of  the  Church,  and  of  man. 

The  relation  of  the  individual  to  inheritance  on  the 


THE    KINGDOM    OF    MAN.  127 

I 

one  hand  and  to  environment  on  the  other  is  very  con- 
cisely stated  by  Mr.  Jenkyn  Lloyd  Jones  of  Chicago,  in 
his  final  examination  of  a  class  in  philosophy.  The  last 
question  propounded  is  as  follows :  "  Two  children  are 
born  on  the  same  day,  one  in  the  home  of  a  Harvard 
professor,  the  other  in  the  wigwam  of  a  Dakota  chief. 
By  some  chance,  the  two  children  exchange  homes  in 
early  infancy ;  the  child  of  the  savage  chief  is  educated 
in  the  atmosphere  of  Harvard,  while  the  Cambridge 
child  is  reared  on  the  Indian  reservation.  At  the  age 
of  forty,  which  would  you  rather  be,  and  why?"  I 
shall  leave  you  to  solve  this  problem  as  you  may. 
Remember,  however,  that  it  deals  with  two  kingdoms, 
one  of  society,  the  other  of  the  individual.  Society  is 
responsible  for  the  two  civilizations.  The  individual 
is  responsible  for  his  career  within  the  limits  of  his 
civilization. 

The  philosophy  of  right  living  is  strikingly  expressed 
by  Zoroaster,  the  old  Persian  sage.  "  I  was  in  dark- 
ness," he  says,  "but  I  took  three  steps  and  found 
myself  in  paradise;  the  first  step  was  a  good  thought, 
the  second  a  good  word,  and  the  third  a  good  deed." 
These  three  steps  indicate  the  boundary  lines  of  human 
responsibility,  the  domain  of  individual  sovereignty, 
the  kingdom  of  man. 


XVI.    IMPRISONED    GENII. 

AN  interesting  old  Arabian  legend  relates  that  Radib, 
one  of  the  most  versatile  and  powerful  of  the  genii, 
resolved  that  he  would  render  his  services  to  mankind 
only  upon  the  condition  that  they  were  won  by  toil 
and  perseverance.  Accordingly  he  provided  himself 
with  a  secret  retreat, — an  insignificant  little  black  bot- 
tle,— for  which  he  contrived  a  curious  spring  stopper. 
He  then  succeeded  in  reducing  his  gigantic  proportions, 
so  that  he  could  conceal  himself  in  the  little  black 
bottle.  As  soon  as  he  entered,  the  mysterious  spring 
stopper  securely  closed  the  door  of  his  little  prison. 

"  I  will  now  go  to  sleep,"  said  the  giant ;  "  and  he 
who  needs  me  may  wake  me  up  and  let  me  out." 

Hundreds  of  years  had  elapsed,  and  many  genera- 
tions of  men  had  come  and  gone.  The  little  black  bottle 
still  lay  in  the  valley,  unopened  and  unheeded.  Some 
had  observed  it,  only  to  kick  it  from  their  path  with 
scorn  and  contempt,  because  it  had  no  beauty  nor  come- 
liness in  their  eyes.  Some  had  picked  it  up,  only  to  cast 
at  away  again.  They  had  neither  the  skill  nor  the 
patience  to  undo  the  spring  stopper;  they  heard  no 

128 


IMPRISONED   GENII.  129 

voice  from  within,  nor  could  they  see  the  concealed 
divinity  which  waited  only  to  be  released  to  do  them 
inestimable  service.  To  the  many  thousands  who  had 
passed  that  way,  in  search  of  wealth  or  fame  or  pleas- 
ure or  power,  the  little  black  bottle  was  an  object  too 
trivial  to  attract  attention. 

One  day  came  a  poor  peasant.  By  chance  he  stum- 
bled upon  the  little  black  bottle.  He  picked  it  up  and 
resolved  to  carry  it  to  his  home,  that  his  children  might 
use  it  as  a  toy.  As  the  poor  man  scrutinized  the  little 
black  object  he  had  found,  he  observed  its  peculiar  form 
and  the  strange  device  which  closed  the  opening.  While 
reflecting  upon  the  possible  use  of  so  trivial  an  object, 
he  heard  from  within  a  faint  voice,  scarcely  audible  at 
first,  but  more  distinct  as  he  bent  his  ear  to  listen. 

"  Let  me  out,  let  me  out,"  said  the  voice. 

"  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  let  you  out?  "  said  the 
peasant. 

"  Whatever  you  desire,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then,"  said  the  peasant,  "  give  me  a  beautiful  palace 
and  fill  it  with  gold." 

"  I  will,"  replied  the  voice ;  "  let  me  out,  let  me  out." 

Immediately  the  peasant  went  to  work  to  learn  the 
secret  of  the  spring  stopper.  His  zeal  was  unflagging ; 
his  energy  was  tireless.  The  more  difficult  seemed  his 
task,  the  stronger  grew  his  faith  in  the  voice.  He  bent 


130  OLD    TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

all  his  energies  to  his  task  and  consecrated  all  his 
powers  to  its  accomplishment.  Days,  months,  years 
passed,  but  the  mystery  was  still  unsolved;  the  little 
black  bottle  was  still  unopened.  Time  and  labor,  pleas- 
ure and  comfort — all  were  sacrificed  to  his  one  life 
purpose.  Though  sometimes  his  ardor  grew  cold  and 
his  hopes  became  faint,  he  did  not  despair.  He  had 
.heard  the  "still  small  voice"  from  within,  and  that 
voice  had  found  a  response  in  his  own  heart.  At  last, 
after  years  of  toil  and  privation,  his  object  was  at- 
tained :  he  discovered  the  secret  of  the  spring  stopper, 
and  the  little  black  bottle  was  opened.  Immediately, 
there  came  forth  a  little  cloud,  a  vapory  substance  that 
seemed  to  possess  neither  form  nor  beauty.  For  the 
moment,  the  peasant's  heart  sank  within  him.  Was 
this  to  be  the  reward  of  all  his  toil?  Must  his  faith 
and  sacrifice  end  at  last  in  vapor?  But  as  he  watched, 
the  vapory  substance  slowly  expanded  and  gradually 
assumed  the  form  of  a  stupendous  giant,  whose  head 
towered  far  above  the  trees  of  the  forest.  He  picked 
up  the  peasant's  modest  little  hut,  threw  it  in  mid-air; 
and  it  came  down  to  earth  transformed  into  a  marble 
palace  of  gorgeous  beauty,  fit  for  a  king  to  inhabit. 
The  giant  blew  his  breath  upon  the  forest  trees,  and  the 
leaves  in  falling  were  changed  into  showers  of  golden 
coins.  Hundreds  of  little  dwarfs  were  soon  upon  the 


IMPRISONED   GENII.  131 

scene,  carrying  into  the  marble  palace  bags  of  glittering 
gold.  Each  little  dwarf,  as  he  threw  down  his  bag  of 
gold,  threw  himself  upon  it  and  was  instantly  changed 
into  another  bag  of  gold,  until  every  nook  and  every 
chamber  in  the  capacious  palace  was  closely  packed 
with  gold.  When  the  giant  had  fulfilled  his  promise, 
he  said  to  the  peasant : 

"  Whenever  you  need  me  again,  you  know  where  to 
find  me."  Then  he  squeezed  himself  once  more  into 
the  little  black  bottle,  and  the  mysterious  spring  stop- 
per again  securely  closed  his  prison  door. 

This  old  Arabian  tale  is  not  so  fantastic  as  it  seems. 
The  truth  it  illustrates  has  been  verified  in  the  lives 
of  thousands  of  men  and  women.  Civilization  is  the 
sum  total  of  little  things,  and  history  is  but  the  record 
of  great  events  born  of  obscure  beginnings.  Yet  most 
people  despise  small  things.  The  unlettered  and  the 
ignorant  in  all  ages  have  overlooked  the  commonplace. 
Our  estimates  of  our  surroundings  are  too  often  based 
upon  external  appearances.  We  are  too  apt  to  judge 
people  by  the  clothes  they  wear,  and  to  value  citizen- 
ship in  dollars  and  cents.  But  truth  does  not  go 
abroad,  heralded  by  a  trumpeter  and  a  brass  band,  nor 
do  we  find  the  best  commodities  of  life  in  a  full-page 
newspaper  advertisement. 

The  ancients  delighted  to  represent    their    heroes 


132  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

and  divinities  with  a  plain  exterior.  The  gods  of 
Olympus  seldom  visited  the  earth  with  the  pomp  and 
splendor  of  their  imperial  home.  They  often  appeared 
in  low  disguises,  living  on  common  terms  with  mortals. 
The  Homeric  legends  represent  Apollo,  when  banished 
from  heaven,  as  a  herdsman  pasturing  the  flocks  of 
Admetus  on  the  banks  of  "  Thessalian  Amphrysus," 
and  Jove,  the  "  father  of  gods  and  of  men,"  as  de- 
lighted to  rusticate  with  the  sons  of  toil.  Odin,  in 
the  legends  of  the  North,  was  a  fisherman;  and  the 
chief  hero  of  Hindu  mythology  was  a  peasant  dwelling 
among  peasants.  So,  also,  in  sacred  history,  Jesus, 
the  carpenter's  son,  was  born  in  a  stable  and  trod  the 
shores  of  Galilee  with  unlettered  fishermen  as  His  priv- 
ileged associates.  True  greatness  has  always  been  re- 
presented with  a  plain  and  humble  exterior.  True 
worth  is  veiled  from  vulgar  eyes.  It  is  the  great  mis- 
sion of  education  to  lift  the  curtain  from  the  common- 
place and  to  enable  us  to  see  the  divinity  that  lies 
within,  in  all  its  splendor  and  beauty. 

The  world  is  beginning  to  appreciate  the  common- 
place. It  is  learning  the  lesson  of  Michael  Angelo, 
that  "  trifles  make  perfection."  The  waste  products  in 
manufacture  are  turned  into  articles  of  commerce,  and 
those  things  that  were  despised  by  our  ancestors  are 
attracting  new  interest.  Much  of  the  silver  and  gold 


IMPRISONED   GENII.  133 

mined  in  our  western  states  today  is  obtained  from 
the  dumps  of  twenty  years  ago.  Swamps  are  drained, 
arid  plains  are  irrigated,  and  neglected  fields  in  science 
and  literature  are  beginning  to  bring  forth  rich  fruit- 
age for  mankind. 

"  It  is  the  very  principle  of  science,"  says  Emerson, 
"  that  nature  shows  herself  best  in  leasts."  The  great 
discoveries  and  inventions  of  the  world  may  generally 
be  traced  to  obscure  beginnings.  Men  were  readily 
attracted  by  the  glitter  of  gold,  but  failed  to  see  the 
value  of  the  mountains  of  iron  ore  that  so  long  re- 
mained about  them  untouched;  they  were  dazzled  by 
the  ruby  and  the  diamond,  but  gave  no  heed  to  the 
useful  "  black  diamonds  "  that  lay  at  their  feet.  Until 
the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  a  lump  of  coal  was 
a  veritable  "  black  bottle,"  within  which  dwelt  a  power- 
ful giant,  waiting  to  be  released  to  serve  humanity.  A 
drop  of  water  is  an  insignificant  thing,  a  little  "  black 
bottle,"  whose  latent  possibilities  were  undreamed  of 
through  the  long  ages  of  the  world.  Men  heard  the 
faint  voice  within  crying  for  release;  thousands  toiled 
to  master  the  secret  of  the  mysterious  "  spring  stop- 
per." At  last,  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  the  giant  was 
freed.  Today,  he  grinds  our  corn,  weaves  our  cloth, 
saws  our  timber.  He  has  belted  states  and  kingdoms 
with  iron  highways,  and  sends  the  iron  horse  thunder- 


134  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

ing  and  shrieking  through  the  valleys  and  over  the 
plains,  laden  with  life  and  the  products  of  toil.  He 
carries  the  majestic  ship  across  the  ocean,  and,  through 
the  midst  of  the  wildest  sea  mountains,  guides  her  safe 
to  port,  while 

"  The  pulses  of  her  iron  heart 
Go  beating  through  the  storm." 

Earth  and  air  have  always  been  the  common  property 
of  man;  but  generations  trod  the  earth  and  breathed 
the  air,  unconscious  of  the  marvelous  powers  they 
contained,  until  men  like  Franklin,  Morse,  and  Cyrus 
Field  touched  the  magic  spring  that  imprisoned  the 
giant  within.  The  little  black  bottle  yields  its  secret, 
and  the  stupendous  giant  called  electricity  is  brought 
into  the  service  of  man.  Jupiter-like,  it  cleaves  seas 
and  continents  with  one  gigantic  stride  and  flashes 
from  state  to  state  and  from  continent  to  continent, 
bearing  the  thoughts  and  desires  of  men.  This  wonder- 
ful giant  writes  our  letters  and  delivers  them,  too;  he 
is  at  once  the  world's  stenographer  and  mail  carrier; 
he  is  ready  for  any  service  and  can  speak  any  language 
known  to  man.  He  pulls  our  cars  and  carriages,  turns 
the  wheels  of  our  machinery,  and  lights  our  streets  and 
our  houses.  Science  today  is  rapidly  realizing  Emer- 
son's prophetic  vision :  "  Hitch  your  wagon  to  a  star, 


IMPRISONED   GENII.  135 

and  let  your  chores  be  done  by  the  gods  themselves ! " 
Thousands  of  scientists  are  trying  to  learn  the 
secrets  of  the  spring  stoppers  that  conceal  so  many 
powerful  giants.  Thousands  of  others  are  at  work 
harnessing  the  powerful  genii  of  earth  and  air  and 
water  for  the  service  of  the  race.  These  giant  forces 
of  nature,  concealed  in  the  simplest  things  around  us, 
stand  ready  to  do  our  bidding;  they  will  perform  all 
the  drudgery  of  the  world  if  only  we  can  learn  the 
secret  and  "  let  them  out."  Thousands  of  young  men 
and  women  in  our  schools  and  colleges  are  striving  to 
master  the  secrets  of  the  spring  stoppers  which  confine 
the  genii  within  their  prisons.  In  physiology,  physics, 
chemistry,  and  geology,  you  have  "  little  black  bottles  " 
that  you  alone  must  open,  if  the  giants  within  are  to 
serve  you.  Mathematics  is  the  common  key  that  un- 
locks the  door  of  every  science.  It  is  a  "  little  black 
bottle  "  that  conceals  a  stupendous  giant,  one  that  has 
at  his  command  a  whole  army  of  lesser  giants,  which 
he  brings  into  the  service  of  man.  Mathematics  tells 
the  astronomer  where  to  look  for  a  new  star  in  the 
heavens,  and  enables  him  to  describe  with  accuracy 
the  courses  of  the  planets.  Mathematics  had  inferred 
the  existence  of  the  vibrations  which  produce  the 
Roentgen  ray  long  before  it  was  discovered,  just  as  it 
had  established  for  Newton  the  law  of  gravitation  .be- 


136  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

fore  it  was  accepted  as  a  principle  of  physics.  You 
are  struggling  with  Latin  and  with  science,  with 
history  and  with  English  composition.  They  seem 
unattractive  and  insignificant  to  you  now.  They  are 
"  little  black  bottles,"  concealing  within  the  most 
powerful  genii.  You  must  learn  for  yourselves  the 
secret  of  the  magic  stopper ;  you  cannot  do  it  by  proxy. 
Listen  to  the  voices  of  these  genii,  though  you  hear 
them  yet  but  faintly ;  let  them  out  and  they  will  enrich 
you  by  their  service.  If  you  would  succeed  you  must 
exercise  faith,  humility,  and  self-denial.  Give  heed  to 
the  commonplaces  of  life.  The  gods  do  not  always 
dwell  in  the  heights  of  Olympus;  they  are  waiting  at 
our  feet  to  do  our  bidding.  The  world  is  full  of  genii, 
but  their  powers  cannot  be  obtained  unasked.  Their 
favor  and  assistance  will  not  come  to  us  unsought. 
Worship  is  the  condition  of  all  blessing;  and  worship 
consists  of  faith,  prayer,  and  labor  unceasing. 

The  average  life  consists  of  commonplace  events. 
The  test  of  true  living  is  not  to  be  sought  in  the  bril- 
liant episodes  or  the  dramatic  incidents  of  a  career, 
but  in  the  ordinary  everyday  experiences  of  life.  We 
need  not  fold  our  hands  and  wait  for  the  occasional  or 
the  exceptional  incidents  of  life  to  bring  us  a  revelation 
of  truth  and  duty;  we  need  not  wait  for  a  midday 
vision  to  bring  us  the  divine  message.  "  The  word  is 


IMPRISONED   GENII.  137 

very  nigh  thee."  In  daily  trial  and  homely  joy,  in 
honest  toil  and  simple  service,  there  are  spiritual  genii 
waiting  to  be  released  to  inspire  us  to  the  truer  life. 
The  greatest  needs  and  the  greatest  blessings  of  human 
life  are  found  in  commonplace  experience  and  common- 
place endeavor.  When  we  learn  to  find  inspiration  in 
the  commonplace  routine  duties  of  life,  we  may  realize 
the  poet's  aspiration  and 

"  make  this  forenoon  sublime, 
This  afternoon  a  psalm,  this  night  a  prayer, 
And  time  is  conquered,  and  the  crown  is  won." 


XVII.     ALTARS    OF    THANKSGIVING. 

"  I  will  offer  to  thee  the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving." — Psalm  cxvi. 
17. 

IN  ancient  Greek  mythology  we  are  told  that  the 
king  of  Calydon  issued  a  thanksgiving  proclamation. 
His  empire  had  flourished,  his  people  had  prospered. 
The  fields  of  Calydon  had  brought  forth  abundant 
harvests,  and  the  vineyards  had  yielded  a  rich  fruitage. 
His  enemies  had  been  conquered  in  war,  and  his  people 
rejoiced  in  the  spoils  of  victory.  Commerce  by  land 
and  sea  had  been  richly  profitable,  and  peace  and 
happiness  reigned  throughout  Calydon.  In  order  that 
this  thanksgiving  festival  should  be  elaborate,  he  di- 
rected that  altars  be  constructed  throughout  the  realm 
to  the  lesser  divinities  as  well  as  to  the  mighty  gods 
who  dwelt  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Olympus.  Accord- 
ingly, altars  were  erected  in  honor  of  Ceres,  the  goddess 
of  corn;  Bacchus,  the  god  of  vineyards;  Mars,  the  god 
of  war;  Neptune,  the  god  of  the  sea;  Apollo,  the  god 
of  music;  Mercury,  the  god  of  speech  and  eloquence; 
and  all  the  other  divinities  that  had  contributed  to  the 
prosperity  of  Calydon.  To  each  divinity,  appropriate 

138 


ALTARS   OF   THANKSGIVING.  139 

thank-offerings  and  sacrifices  were  made;  and  to  each, 
homage  was  paid  proportionate  to  his  supposed  contri- 
bution to  the  prosperity  of  Calydon.  At  the  close  of 
this  great  harvest-home,  when  the  fires  upon  the  altars 
burned  low,  and  the  odors  of  the  sacrifices  had  been 
wafted  by  fair  winds  to  mingle  with  the  clouds  of  far- 
away Olympus,  the  people  returned  to  their  homes, 
rejoicing  in  the  thought  of  the  pious  duties  they  had 
performed. 

But  alas !  one  deity  had  been  neglected.  While  doing 
homage  to  the  gods  of  far-off  Olympus,  they  had  for- 
gotten Diana,  the  mighty  huntress,  the  queen  of  the 
woods  and  of  the  chase,  who  hunted  the  wild  beasts  in 
the  Calydonian  forest.  On  account  of  her  vigilance, 
the  wolves  and  the  foxes  and  other  wild  beasts  of  the 
forests  had  not  molested  the  flocks,  the  fields,  or  the 
vineyards  of  Calydon;  yet  in  this  great  thanksgiving 
festival,  no  altar  had  been  raised  in  her  honor,  no 
homage  had  been  paid  to  her  power.  The  king  of 
Calydon  had  intended  no  slight  to  the  goddess;  he 
simply  did  not  think  of  her.  All  went  well  until  it 
was  nearly  time  for  another  harvest.  The  prospects 
were  even  brighter  than  those  of  the  year  before;  and 
believing  that  it  paid  to  celebrate  thanksgiving,  the 
king  was  thinking  of  another  proclamation,  when  sud- 
denly a  great  disaster  fell  upon  his  people.  Out  of 


140  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

the  great  Calydonian  forest  came  an  enormous  wild 
boar,  whose  terrible  tusks  and  foaming  mouth  made  the 
people  dumb  with  fear.  He  ravaged  the  ripening  grain 
fields,  laid  waste  the  vineyards,  destroyed  the  herds 
and  flocks  and  killed  the  people  that  ventured  beyond 
the  city  walls.  For  a  season  the  domains  of  Calydon 
were  devastated,  and  thanksgiving  and  joy  were 
changed  into  sorrow  and  lamentation.  At  last  Mele- 
ager,  the  king's  son,  came  forth  and  summoned  to  his 
aid  all  the  heroes  of  Greece.  They  organized  the 
famous  Calydonian  hunt,  chased  the  terrible  beast  to 
his  lair  in  the  forest,  where  he  was  killed  by  Meleager, 
who  himself  afterwards  lost  his  life  on  account  of  the 
envy  of  his  companions. 

This  interesting  story  of  a  mythological  age  intro- 
duces to  us  the  oldest  thanksgiving  festival  of  litera- 
ture. Mythical  as  it  is,  the  human  element  of  the 
legend  is  universal ;  and  its  lessons  may  be  useful  to 
us  today  as  we  prepare  to  celebrate  the  first  thanks- 
giving festival  of  the  twentieth  century. 

On  Thanksgiving  Day,  we  are  apt  to  catalogue  our 
blessings  and  enumerate  our  individual  successes.  The 
direction  of  our  gratitude  depends  largely  upon  the 
direction  of  our  prosperity,  while  the  intensity  of  our 
emotion  of  thankfulness  depends  upon  our  sense  of 
personal  obligation.  The  farmer  is  thankful  for  rain 


ALTARS   OF   THANKSGIVING.  141 

and  a  good  crop  of  corn  or  cotton ;  the  merchant,  for 
a  successful  business  year;  the  lawyer  or  the  doctor, 
for  professional  success;  the  mechanic,  for  plenty  of 
work  and  good  wages;  and  the  politician,  for  a*  good 
office  and  influence  enough  to  hold  it.  Such  blessings 
as  life,  health,  food,  clothing,  and  shelter,  are  more  or 
less  common  to  all  and  appeal  to  our  common  sense  of 
gratitude.  All  our  personal  life  equations  have  these 
blessings  as  common  factors.  If  we  analyze  our  own 
emotions,  however,  we  will  find  that  each  of  us,  like  the 
king  of  Calydon,  issues  his  own  thanksgiving  proclama- 
tion ;  and  the  thanksgiving  altars  we  raise  are  as  varied 
as  our  dispositions  and  our  personal  interests.  Cain 
was  a  tiller  of  the  soil  and  "  brought  of  the  fruit  of  the 
ground,  an  offering  unto  the  Lord  " ;  but  Abel  was  a 
keeper  of  sheep  and  "  brought  of  the  firstlings  of  his 
flock."  Our  altars  may  not  be  consciously  dedicated 
to  the  heathen  divinities  of  Greece  and  Rome,  like  the 
altars  of  the  old  myth ;  but  if  we  remember  that  these 
mythical  divinities  of.  ancient  mythology  are  personi- 
fications of  nature  and  may  be  regarded  as  symbols  of 
natural  forces  working  within  us  and  without  us,  we 
may  conclude  that  many  of  the  thanksgiving  altars  of 
today  are  dedicated  in  honor  of  the  same  old  heathen 
divinities.  The  thank-offerings  of  many  are  still  sym- 
bols of  particular  occupations — sacrifices  to  Ceres, 


142  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

Bacchus,  or  Mars;  to  Mercury,  Apollo,  or  Minerva;  to 
Venus,  Mammon,  or  the  goddess  of  Fortune. 

The  word  "  thank  "  comes  from  the  same  root  as  the 
word  "  think."  To  be  thankful  is  to  be  thoughtful — 
thoughtful  not  only  of  our  benefactors,  but  also  of 
those  who  need  our  benefactions ;  not  only  of  our  bless- 
ings, but  also  of  those  who  are  without  them ;  not  only 
of  our  abundance,  but  also  of  the  want  of  others. 
Thankfulness  in  its  broad  sense  is  thoughtfulness, 
and  Thanksgiving  Day  is  thought sgiving  day.  Our 
thoughts  constitute  the  self, — the  inner  and  real  part 
of  us, — and  a  thank-offering  is  the  sacrifice  of  that  self 
to  supply  the  needy.  The  hungry  and  the  naked,  the 
sick,  the  afflicted,  and  the  sorrowful,  are  the  thanks- 
giving altars  upon  which  the  truly  thankful  man  makes 
his  thank-offering  to  God.  Upon  these  altars  he  sacri- 
fices himself  by  being  thoughtful.  He  is  thoughtful 
of  the  hungry  and  converts  himself  into  bread;  he  is 
thoughtful  of  the  naked  and  converts  himself  into 
clothing;  he  is  thoughtful  of  the  sick  and  afflicted 
and  converts  himself  into  comfort  and  relief;  he  is 
thoughtful  of  the  sorrowful  and  converts  himself  into 
sympathy.  The  true  altars  of  thanksgiving  are  the 
suffering  and  the  needy ;  and  the  truly  thankful  man  is 
the  one  who  thinks,  and  who  converts  his  thoughts  for 
the  relief  of  suffering  and  distress,  thus  offering  a 


ALTARS   OP   THANKSGIVING.  143 

sacrifice  "well  pleasing  and  acceptable  unto  God." 
"  For  inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  the  least  of 
these  little  ones,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 

But  the  king  of  Calydon  neglected  to  pay  homage  to 
Diana,  the  mighty  huntress;  and,  in  consequence  of 
that  neglect,  his  fields  were  devastated  by  a  terrible 
wild  beast  from  the  forest.  If  Diana  in  the  fable  is 
the  symbol  of  temperance  and  self-denial,  the  moral 
lesson  is  obvious  at  once.  In  the  forests  of  our  nature 
are  the  lairs  of  many  dangerous  beasts,  which  we  must 
chase  and  destroy.  Faults  and  foibles,  weaknesses  and 
self-indulgences,  soon  grow  into  confirmed  habits.  If 
we  forget  them  and  neglect  them,  they  will  some  day 
become  our  masters  and  will  wreck  our  lives  as  the 
Calydonian  boar  devastated  the  fields  of  Calydon. 
Many  a  young  man  with  a  promising  outlook,  with  a 
bright  prospect  for  a  useful  career,  has  had  his  life 
wrecked  by  the  wild  beast  of  intemperance.  Malice 
and  envy  and  avarice,  passion  and  prejudice,  are  Caly- 
donian boars,  which,  if  neglected,  will  some  day  come 
out  of  the  forest  into  the  open  fields  and  defy  your 
power  to  check  their  disastrous  course.  The  State 
may  pay  homage  on  this  thanksgiving  festival  to  all 
the  virtues,  social,  civic,  and  moral ;  but  there  is  grave 
danger  that  some  day,  on  account  of  neglect  and  in- 
difference, the  Calydonian  boars  of  ignorance  and 


144  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

political  corruption  may  stalk  forth  from  her  forests 
and  lay  waste  her  fair  fields.  Our  country  may  erect 
altars  to  all  the  powers  in  the  universe ;  but  unless  the 
wild  beasts  of  greed  and  anarchy  and  commercialism 
are  chased  and  destroyed,  she  will  pay  the  penalty  of 
neglect,  as  did  the  king  of  Calydon. 

What  does  thanksgiving  signify  to  you  today?  Is 
it  merely  a  sentiment  of  gratitude  for  benefits  received  ? 
A  pleasing  sensation  resulting  from  the  possession  of 
gifts  not  possessed  by  others?  Is  it  the  vocal  expres- 
sion of  that  sentiment  in  song  or  in  prayer — the  giving 
thanks  to  God  on  one  special  day  in  the  year?  To  many, 
no  doubt,  thanksgiving  means  just  this  and  nothing 
more.  There  can  be  no  real  thanksgiving  in  the  heart, 
unless  the  sentiment  of  gratitude  involves  a  sense  of 
obligation — obligation  to  use  the  benefits  given  to  us  as 
a  trust  for  the  relief  of  others.  "  The  hand  of  Provi- 
dence is  a  human  hand,"  and  the  truly  thankful  man 
feels  that  he  and  his  gifts  are  but  the  instruments  of 
that  Providence.  Thanksgiving  thus  becomes  thanks- 
living,  not  for  one  day  in  the  year,  but  for  the  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  days.  If  the  man  you  have 
benefited  thanks  you  profusely  one  day  and  slanders 
you  the  next,  he  is  not  grateful.  If  your  father 
showed  mercy  to  a  neighbor  who  was  sick  and  penni- 
less, fed  him,  clothed  him,  and  nursed  him  back  to 


ALTABS   OF   THANKSGIVING.  145 

health,  and  that  neighbor  afterwards  rudely  turned 
you  from  his  door  when  you  appealed  for  a  small  favor, 
you  would  pronounce  that  neighbor  a  despicable  in- 
grate.  Yet,  your  merciful  Father  continues  to  shower 
His  blessings  upon  you  daily;  while  some  of  His  little 
children  at  your  doors  are  crying  for  bread,  for  cheer 
or  for  sympathy,  and  you  deny  them  the  relief  which  it 
is  in  your  power  to  give.  You  may  not  have  money  to 
give,  but  you  can  contribute  a  kind  word  or  a  smile, 
often  much  more  needed  than  food  or  money.  A  cheer- 
ful face,  a  pleasant  greeting  and  a  kindly,  helpful  word, 
often  serve  to  dispel  the  gloom  and  sadness  of  life, 
when  bread  and  meat  are  not  needed.  Truly  "  man 
cannot  live  by  bread  alone."  The  test  of  thanksgiving 
is  thanksliving. 


XVIII.     WORK   AND   RECREATION. 

IN  many  of  our  large  cities,  a  movement  has  been 
started  which  has  for  its  purpose  the  beautifying  of  the 
backyards  as  well  as  of  the  frontyards  of  residences. 
It  is  found  that  many  people  who,  from  motives  of 
decency  and  respectability,  keep  their  frontyards  in 
good  order,  will  neglect  their  backyards  and  permit 
them  to  become  a  menace  to  health  and  good  morals. 
As  a  result,  societies  have  been  organized,  and  prizes 
are  offered  for  the  cleanest  and  most  beautiful  back- 
yards. In  our  own  city,  we  might  profit  by  such  a 
movement. 

The  backyard  of  a  residence  in  a  crowded  city  block 
may  be  made  an  influence  of  great  moral  value  in  the 
life  of  the  people.  If  covered  with  slime,  ash-heaps,  and 
piles  of  unsightly  rubbish,  it  begets  an  influence  that 
cannot  be  counteracted  by  the  well-kept  lawn  in  front. 
•It  is  not  the  frontyard,  but  the  backyard,  that  fur- 
nishes us  with  the  surest  index  to  the  sanitary  and 
moral  condition  of  the  household. 

In  the  large  cities  of  the  country,  the  backyard  is  the 
playground  of  the  family.  Here,  amidst  growing  vines 

146 


WORK    AND   RBCEEATION.  147 

and  fragrant  flowers,  they  find  relief  from  the  din  and 
clamor  of  the  street  and  gather  strength  for  the  duties 
of  the  library,  the  parlor,  or  the  shop ;  here,  the  children 
find  in  their  games  and  sports  that  recreation  which 
enables  them  to  meet  with  cheerfulness  the  tasks  of  the 
school  or  of  the  household.  The  diversion  of  the  beau- 
tiful and  well-equipped  backyard  of  a  city  home  is  the 
best  safeguard  of  childhood  and  the  best  protection 
against  the  temptations  of  evil  companionships  in  the 
street. 

The  beautiful  backyard  of  the  city  residence  is  a 
symbol  of  the  larger  pleasures  and  diversions  of  life. 
Men  and  women  cannot  endure  the  unbroken  round  of 
toil:  the  perpetual  din  of  the  street  dulls  the  ear;  the 
continuous  glare  of  the  avenue  wearies  the  eye;  the 
monotonous  rush  and  drive  of  the  thoroughfare  racks 
the  nerves;  and  we  are  forced  to  find  relaxation  and 
recreation.  Artists  who  paint  continuously  on  a  back- 
ground of  white  rest  the  eyes  by  placing  before  them 
colors  mixed  with  blue  and  green.  The  white  glare  of 
strenuous  work  drives  men  and  women  to  seek  relief 
in  somber  colors.  A  boy  in  one  of  the  social  settle- 
ments of  Chicago,  when  reproved  for  wrong-doing,  re- 
marked, "  How  can  you  expect  a  fellow  to  be  good 
when  he's  got  no  backyard  ? "  The  boy's  homely 
phrase  contains  a  bit  of  wholesome  philosophy.  Say 


148  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

what  we  will,  the  backyard  idea  in  life  is  an  important 
element  of  individual  and  social  progress.  I  sympa- 
thize with  that  Chicago  boy.  It  is  hard  indeed  to  be 
good,  physically,  mentally,  or  morally,  without  definite 
periods  of  relaxation  and  recuperation;  efficiency  can- 
not be  kept  at  a  high  standard  without  refreshment 
and  recreation.  The  business  man  must  seek  rest  and 
recreation  in  the  solitude  of  his  summer  home,  to  keep 
himself  from  being  ground  to  death  under  the  wheels 
of  his  business;  the  professional  man  must  seek  recrea- 
tion in  fishing  or  hunting,  to  keep  himself  from  becom- 
ing a  physical  and  mental  wreck.  Workers  in  every 
field  of  duty  must  have  their  backyards  for  play  and 
relaxation,  and  for  the  recuperation  of  energy,  to 
endure  the  severe  strain  of  modern  life.  This  is  the 
simple  explanation  and  justification  of  the  legitimate 
athletic  sports  of  school  and  college.  The  boy  who 
devotes  all  his  time  to  hard  study  can  never  hope  to 
equal  in  real  power  and  efficiency  that  other  boy  who 
knows  how  to  alternate  hard  work  and  rational  recrea- 
tion. "  All  work  and  no  play "  does  indeed  tend  to 
make  Jack  a  dull  boy,  and  will  probably  make  him  a 
duller  man.  The  best  all-around  student  is  the  one 
who  has  learned  so  to  adjust  his  life,  that  all  his 
powers,  physical  and  mental,  shall  get  their  best  and 
most  harmonious  development. 


WORK    AND   RECREATION.  149 

I  don't  believe  in  the  theory  of  some  philosophers 
that  baseball,  football,  and  other  forms  of  college  ath- 
letics are  merely  relics  of  barbarism  and  indicate  the 
tendency  of  man  to  revert  to  savagery.  I  prefer  to 
regard  them  as  forms  of  physical  and  mental  relaxa- 
tion, just  as  essential  to  the  well-being  of  the  student 
as  fishing  and  hunting  to  that  of  the  business  or  pro- 
fessional man.  Ethically,  they  may  be  no  better;  they 
are  certainly  no  worse. 

It  is  a  well-established  principle  of  science  that  all 
movement  in  the  universe  is  rhythmic.  From  mole- 
cules to  stars  and  suns,  movement  is  never  steady  and 
continuous.  In  the  processes  of  growth,  rest  follows 
activity;  and  all  life  is  a  succession  of  intermittent 
pulsations.  The  resultant  of  these  backward  and  for- 
ward movements  is  a  form  of  progress,  which  is  better 
described  by  the  spiral  than  by  the  straight  line. 

The  successful  life  conforms  to  this  universal  law  of 
rhythm.  It  is  a  perpetual  swing  between  lower  and 
higher  forms  of  activity.  It  is  this  swing  of  life's 
pendulum,  as  of  that  in  the  clock  on  the  wall,  that  gives 
energy  and  efficiency  to  the  whole  human  machine.  It 
is  the  movement  of  the  wave  from  trough  to  crest  and 
from  crest  to  trough  again  that  keeps  the  ocean  from 
becoming  a  stagnant  pool ;  it  is  the  intermittent  motion 
of  the  winds  that  purifies  the  atmosphere  and  makes 


150  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

the  air  we  breathe  sweet  and  wholesome.  This  per- 
petual swing  between  toil  and  pleasure,  work  and 
relaxation,  saves  labor  from  becoming  drudgery,  keeps 
life  pure  and  sweet,  and  re-creates  the  vital  forces  for 
more  efficient  service.  The  swing  from  the  axe-handle 
to  statecraft  and  philosophy  made  the  life  of  Gladstone 
a  power  in  British  politics;  the  swing  from  the  fishing- 
rod  to  affairs  of  state  has  given  our  own  country  more 
than  one  notable  example  of  power  and  efficiency. 
The  greatest  workers  in  the  history  of  the  race  have 
had  their  backyards  of  play  or  recreation. 

But  the  most  serious  phase  of  this  subject  is  the 
fact  that  too  many  people  spend  all  their  lives  in  back- 
yards. The  cook,  the  porter,  and  the  stableboy  live  in 
our  backyards ;  and  their  doors  open  into  the  alley  and 
not  into  the  street.  The  young  man  who  enters  school 
or  college  for  the  purpose  of  having  a  good  time,  or 
whose  highest  ambition  is  to  excel  in  football;  who 
neglects  his  studies  and  fails  to  cultivate  the  nobler 
powers  of  his  mind  and  soul — such  a  man  lives  in  his 
backyard,  and  the  doors  of  his  soul  open  out  upon  the 
alleys  of  life.  I  fear  there  are  too  many  young  men 
that  are  content  to  live  in  the  backyards  of  our  colleges 
and  universities. 

The  young  woman  whose  sole  purpose  in  life  is  to 
be  a  society  belle  and  to  win  favor  by  the  external 


WORK    AND   RECREATION.  151 

graces  of  dress  and  artificial  acquirement,  still  lives 
in  a  backyard,  and  makes  selfish  enjoyment  the  serious 
end  of  life.  I  have  no  idea  of  denouncing  the  dance, 
the  theater  or  the  card  table ;  but  when  men  and  women 
sacrifice  the  highest  and  most  imperative  duties  of  life 
for  these  continued  and  uninterrupted  pleasures,  then, 
indeed,  they  stamp  themselves  unmistakably  as  resi- 
dents by  choice  of  the  backyards  of  human  life.  Life, 
to  be  worth  living,  must  be  pitched  on  a  higher  plane 
than  that  of  amusement  and  recreation;  the  circle  of 
life  must  have  a  higher  aim  for  its  center  than  the 
pleasures  and  relaxations  that  are  intended  as  mere 
accessories. 

Let  me  repeat  what  I  said  at  the  beginning.  Your 
backyard  is  a  better  index  to  your  real  condition  than 
your  frontyard.  If  we  would  elevate  life,  we  must 
elevate  the  pleasures  of  life,  not  destroy  them.  If  we 
would  purify  our  lives,  we  must  begin  by  purifying  and 
beautifying  our  recreations  and  our  amusements. 

Build  your  houses  on  the  busy  avenues  of  life,  if  you 
will;  build  your  career  and  your  life  work  where  you 
can  be  most  useful  to  the  world,  and  where  your  life 
will  count  for  something  in  the  world's  progress.  But 
let  your  backyard — your  pleasures  and  your  recrea- 
tions, purified  of  dross  and  all  selfishness — serve  as 
accessory  and  aid  in  your  life  of  thought  and  achieve- 


152  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

ment.  You  will  thus  preserve  the  harmony  and  equili- 
brium of  all  life's  forces  and  be  able  to  consecrate 
not  only  your  business,  but  also  your  pleasure, — not 
alone  your  residence  on  the  avenue,  but  likewise  your 
purified  and  beautified  backyard, — to  the  service  of 
God  and  humanity. 


XIX.     WORK  AND   CHARACTER. 

IN  the  crypt  of  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral  in  London 
lies  buried  the  body  of  Christopher  Wren,  the  famous 
architect  who  designed  that  splendid  structure.  Above 
his  resting  place,  upon  a  marble  slab,  is  the  inscription : 
"Si  monumentum  requiris,  circumspice "— If  you  ask 
for  his  monument,  look  around.  In  Saint  Paul's 
Cathedral,  Christopher  Wren  has  a  monument  more 
magnificent  than  any  marble  shaft  or  royal  mausoleum. 
The  most  impressive  thing  about  that  monument  is, 
however,  not  its  massive  proportions  nor  its  costly 
material,  but  the  simple  fact  that  he  built  it  himself. 
Man's  only  true  monument  is  his  own  work.  As  we 
walk  through  a  beautiful  cemetery,  we  see  many  costly 
monuments  and  read  the  inscriptions,  which,  in  loving 
phrases,  recite  the  virtues  of  the  departed.  But  these 
monuments  are  built  by  other  hands;  and,  in  many 
instances,  the  reflection  is  forced  upon  us,  that  this 
magnificent  post-mortem  exhibit  is  but  a  sad  mockery 
of  the  life  commemorated.  Our  real  monuments  will 
not  be  found  in  graveyards,  but  in  the  actual  work  of 
our  own  hands  and  brains  during  life.  Saint  Paul's 

153 


154  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

Cathedral  is  an  appropriate  monument  because  it  sym- 
bolizes the  character  of  the  builder  and  reflects  the 
patient  toil,  the  marvelous  skill,  and  the  noble  ideals 
of  the  man  who  conceived  and  executed  that  stupen- 
dous edifice.  Christopher  Wren  put  into  that  great 
structure  the  best  that  was  in  him;  his  greatest 
thoughts,  his  noblest  purposes,  and  his  best  knowledge 
and  skill.  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral  was  not  dishonored 
by  defective  material  nor  shoddy  workmanship;  in  its 
construction,  there  were  neither  crafty  stratagems  nor 
cunning  evasions,  shrewd  deceptions  nor  cheap  subter- 
fuges. The  man  put  himself  into  his  work ;  and  while 
his  body  still  sleeps  within  those  walls,  Christopher 
Wren  continues  to  live  in  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral. 

Goethe  once  declared  that  all  his  works  constituted 
one  great  confession.  Every  man's  work  is  his  public 
confession,  his  revelation  of  himself:  all  labor  is  self- 
expression,  self-realization.  Man  lives  in  his  works: 
they  not  only  perpetuate  his  memory,  but  also  reveal 
his  character.  The  flint  spear-head,  the  carved  image, 
and  the  bits  of  broken  pottery  in  the  museum  are  prized 
by  the  student  of  anthropology,  because  they  enable 
him  to  read  the  history  of  a  vanished  race.  It  is  said 
that,  if  every  vestige  of  Greek  art  and  literature  had 
been  destroyed  and  only  the  Parthenon  had  been  pre- 


WORK    AND   CHARACTER.  155 

served,  from  its  walls  alone  the  story  of  the  race  could 
be  substantially  reproduced. 

Work  is  a  confession  of  weakness  as  well  as  a  revela- 
tion of  strength;  it  becomes  an  index  to  the  purposes 
and  the  methods  of  the  worker.  In  the  work  of  each 
individual  may  be  read  the  outward  expression  of  his 
inner  moral  being.  The  order  of  the  world  is  essen- 
tially moral;  but  this  order  is  sadly  disturbed  by  the 
shirker  and  the  trifler.  The  progress  of  civilization 
is  impeded  by  the  carelessness  and  shiftlessness,  the 
ignorance  and  incompetence  of  many  who  profess  to 
do  the  work  assigned  to  them.  The  world's  cry  today 
is  for  better  service  and  more  competent  servants.  In 
Church  and  State,  in  business  and  professional  life, 
there  is  a  growing  demand  for  greater  efficiency.  A 
large  proportion  of  the  losses  and  calamities  of  life 
may  be  traced  directly  to  ignorance  and  incompetency. 
Nine-tenths  of  the  railroad  disasters,  reported  in  the 
newspapers  as  accidents,  are  not  accidents  at  all,  but 
the  natural  consequences  of  culpable  ignorance  or 
criminal  negligence.  The  most  frightful  railroad  wreck 
may  be  traced  to  the  forgetfulness  of  a  switchman,  the 
carelessness  of  a  train  dispatcher,  the  ignorance  of  a 
man  at  the  telegraph  table,  the  negligence  of  an  en- 
gineer, or  the  failure  of  a  conductor  to  read  aright  or 
to  obey  his  orders.  Possibly,  it  may  be  traced  farther 


156  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

back,  to  the  ignorance  of  a  bridge  builder,  the  careless- 
ness of  a  blacksmith  who  left  a  defective  link  in  a  chain 
cable,  or  even  to  the  venality  and  greed  of  corporation 
officials.  In  every  line  of  business,  there  are  men  who 
practice  intrigue  and  deception  for  personal  gain ;  who 
do  not  scruple,  for  their  own  advancement,  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  ignorance  and  simplicity  of  those  less 
fortunate.  Business  sharks  and  professional  fakirs 
abound  everywhere;  in  every  town  and  city,  there  are 
men  whose  principal  stock  in  trade  is  the  credulity  of 
ignorance.  Such  men  build  monuments  so  transparent 
that  they  can  scarcely  conceal  the  shriveling  souls 
revealed  in  their  works. 

In  every  trade  and  profession,  we  hear  complaints  of 
shiftlessness  and  inefficiency.  The  roof  of  your  house 
leaks,  the  unseasoned  timbers  warp,  and  the  badly  hung 
doors  and  windows  cause  discomfort  and  annoyance, 
because  some  contractor  or  carpenter  has  failed  to  give 
you  honest  work.  The  plumber,  the  plasterer,  the  tin- 
ner, and  the  paper  hanger,  each  has  an  opportunity  to 
express  himself  in  his  work;  and  too  often  that  work 
bears  the  impress  of  incompetency  or  of  dishonesty. 
Business  men  complain  of  clerks  who  are  shiftless  and 
untrustworthy;  of  employees  who  shirk  and  neglect 
their  duties  in  the  absence  of  employers;  of  stenogra- 
phers who  cannot  read  their  own  notes,  and  who  are 


WORK    AND   CHARACTER.  157 

unable  to  write  and  spell  correctly.  Scores  of  young 
men  and  women  today  rush  into  positions  for  which 
they  are  unqualified,  and  are  eager  to  undertake  duties 
for  which  they  have  neglected  to  prepare  themselves. 
Their  weakness  of  character  is  invariably  reflected  in 
their  work. 

But  the  sins  of  negligence  and  shiftlessness  are  by 
no  means  confined  to  employers  and  wage  earners. 
The  lawyer,  by  idolence  or  stupidity,  abuses  the  in- 
terests of  a  trusting  client;  the  superintendents  and 
directors  of  a  large  enterprise,  by  indifference  to  de- 
tails, may  cause  injustice  and  oppression  to  labor,  or 
bankruptcy  to  their  business.  The  master  is  often 
responsible  for  the  failures  and  shortcomings  of  em- 
ployees, and  the  ordinary  household  servant  too  often 
reflects  the  shiftlessness  of  the  lady  in  the  parlor. 

What  is  the  cause  of  these  various  symptoms? 
Doubtless,  in  many  instances,  necessity  and  compul- 
sory ignorance  are  responsible.  But  by  far  the  deeper 
and  more  universal  cause  is  moral  weakness.  The 
man  who  palms  off  shoddy  goods  for  the  genuine,  who 
sells  by  short  weights  and  measures  or  fails  to  give 
an  equivalent  in  service  or  commodity  for  the  price  he 
receives,  is  essentially  a  dishonest  man  and  is  guilty  of 
immorality.  Commerce  today  is  predominantly  moral 
in  its  tendency.  Organized  business  is  based  upon 


158  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

moral  assumptions  and  presupposes  ethical  standards. 
Commerce  is  a  great  school  of  morality.  Business,  in 
its  organized  relations,  compels  elementary  morality 
and  tends  to  develop  the  higher  and  nobler  ethical 
qualities  of  life.  Business  requires  men  to  be  sober, 
honest  and  industrious;  it  requires  promptness,  pa- 
tience, accuracy  and  courtesy;  it  demands  honor, 
truthfulness  and  fidelity  to  trust.  Vast  business 
interests  depend  upon  the  fidelity  of  some  obscure  ser- 
vant who  moves  the  complex  machinery  by  a  word  or 
a  sign.  The  man  who  serenely  lies  down  to  sleep  in 
the  Pullman  palace  car  that  travels  at  the  rate  of  fifty 
miles  an  hour  has  implicit  faith  in  the  loyalty  of  the 
man  at  the  switch  and  the  skill  of  the  man  at  the 
throttle.  All  business  and  all  labor  is  essentially 
moral :  and  the  exceptions,  after  all,  are  only  the  more 
conspicuous  by  contrast.  We  live  each  day  by  faith 
in  the  goodness  of  men  we  have  never  seen,  and  excep- 
tional treachery  or  baseness  should  not  shake  our  faith 
in  the  moral  order  of  the  world  nor  in  the  essential 
goodness  of  mankind. 

The  world  today  requires  of  its  servants  higher 
qualifications  than  it  did  twenty-five  years  ago;  the 
next  generation  will  be  required  to  show  greater  effi- 
ciency than  the  present.  As  commercial  and  industrial 
methods  increase  in  complexity,  there  is  a  definite 


WORK    AND   CHARACTER.  159 

advance  in  intellectual  and  ethical  standards.  More 
is  required  of  the  motorman  than  of  the  horse-car 
driver,  who  shares  with  the  horse  the  responsibility 
for  efficiency.  The  intellectual  and  moral  qualifica- 
tions of  the  man  who  handles  a  machine  must  be  higher 
than  those  of  the  mere  hand-worker.  In  proportion  as 
science  frees  men  from  dependence  upon  brute  force 
and  substitutes  higher  forms  of  energy  for  lower,  it 
creates  higher  ethical  and  intellectual  demands  upon 
man  himself.  The  more  complex  the  machine,  the 
greater  must  be  the  skill  and  knowledge  of  the  oper- 
ator; the  higher  the  servant,  the  greater  must  be  the 
responsibility  of  the  master.  The  more  complex  the 
organization  of  labor  and  of  capital,  the  greater  the 
need  of  delicate  mechanical  adjustments,  and  the  more 
pressing  the  demands  of  ethical  considerations.  Organ- 
ization promotes  altruism.  As  a  member  of  an  or- 
ganization, the  individual  tends  to  become  less  selfish, 
because  he  is  compelled  to  respect  the  welfare  of  every 
other  member  and  of  the  organization  as  a  whole.  The 
man  who  will  join  no  lodge,  no  union,  no  church,  but 
resolves  to  go  through  life  alone,  is  the  embodiment  of 
selfishness. 

There  is  a  natural  and  inevitable  relation  between 
honest  labor  and  its  just  rewards.  Honest  service 
demands  adequate  remuneration.  But  the  man  who 


160  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

measures  the  reward  before  he  considers  the  character 
of  the  service  reverses  the  logical  order.  The  success- 
ful worker  is  the  man  who  first  considers  his  work. 
Too  many  young  men  begin  at  the  wrong  end  of  the 
line.  "What  will  it  pay  me?"  "How  much  is  there 
in  it  for  me?"  "Where  do  I  come  in?"  These  are 
the  questions  too  often  asked  by  the  man  who  faces  a 
possible  service  to  his  employer,  to  the  city,  to  the 
state,  and  to  humanity.  The  magnified  self  obstructs 
the  vision  of  the  larger  and  more  distant  benefits. 
"  Virtue  is  its  own  reward  "  is  true  in  every  sphere  of 
life.  The  young  man  who  bounds  his  duties  and  re- 
sponsibilities within  the  circumference  of  a  silver 
dollar  limits  the  possibilities  of  success.  When  invited 
to  step  beyond  this  small  circle,  he  will  smilingly  tell 
you,  "  That  is  not  my  work.  There  is  no  money  in  that 
for  me ;  I  am  not  paid  for  doing  somebody  else's  work." 
We  have  too  many  people  who  are  afraid  of  doing  some- 
thing for  nothing,  but  are  not  at  all  sensitive  about 
receiving  something  for  nothing.  Some  years  ago,  a 
sixteen-year-old  boy  left  his  father's  farm  and  went  to 
New  York  to  look  for  work.  He  had  neither  money 
nor  friends;  but  he  had  industry,  pluck,  and  a  good 
common  school  education.  He  applied  for  work  in  a 
railroad  office  and  was  employed  to  sweep  the  office 
and  attend  to  the  fires.  In  this  capacity,  he  proved 


WORK    AND   CHARACTER.  161 

that  he  was  not  afraid  of  work,  whether  stipulated  in 
the  agreement  or  not;  and  he  was  soon  promoted  to 
service  as  a  messenger  boy.  His  willingness,  prompt- 
ness, and  efficiency  soon  won  for  him  a  more  remunera- 
tive position  in  the  office.  Here,  he  not  only  dispatched 
his  own  work  with  efficiency,  but  put  in  overtime  to 
help  those  who  were  behind  and  asked  no  questions 
about  pay.  He  soon  became  familiar  with  the  duties 
of  his  superiors  and  rapidly  climbed  the  ladder  of  pro- 
motion, because  he  regarded  the  service  rather  than 
the  pay.  That  boy  was  Edwin  Hawley,  the  New  York 
millionaire,  who  recently  astonished  the  financial  world 
by  declining  the  presidency  of  the  Southern  Pacific 
Railroad  system  and  a  salary  of  forty  thousand  dollars 
a  year.  When  asked  the  secret  of  his  wonderful  suc- 
cess, he  replied :  "  I  have  always  made  it  a  rule  to  put 
the  best  that  is  in  me  into  the  work  of  my  employer, 
regardless  of  the  pay.  I  am  sufficiently  a  believer  in 
the  law  of  compensation  to  think  that  we  draw  pay 
for  every  bit  of  work  that  we  do.  All  extra  work 
brings  its  compensation.  It  may  not  come  at  once;  it 
may  not  always  come  in  money ;  but  it  is  sure  to  come 
at  some  time  and  in  some  form.  In  the  long  run,  no 
work  ever  goes  unpaid."  These  words  should  be 
burned  into  the  hearts  of  all  young  men  and  women 
who  expect  to  occupy  positions  of  service  and  trust. 


162  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

If  there  is  any  merit  in  your  work,  the  world  will  find 
it  out  and  will  pay  for  it.  All  over  this  country  today, 
business  men  are  searching  for  efficiency.  Look  well 
to  your  work,  and  you  will  worry  less  about  the  pay. 
The  wages  are  only  the  symbol;  the  merit  lies  in  the 
work  itself.  The  man  who  degrades  his  work  to  the 
level  of  his  low  wages,  degrades  himself.  Improve  the 
character  of  your  work,  and  you  will  elevate  yourself ; 
the  symbol  must  in  time  adjust  itself  to  the  reality. 

Labor  is  self-expression.  Every  art,  every  trade,  and 
every  business  is  a  language  that  reveals  the  man 
behind  it.  You  may  have  command  of  a  noble  lan- 
guage, but  it  will  prove  valueless  unless  you  have 
something  to  say  in  it.  Knowledge  and  skill  are  valu- 
able to  the  world  only  as  they  become  the  expression 
of  a  noble  character  and  the  revelation  of  the  divine 
element  in  the  soul. 

There  is  a  tradition  that  in  ancient  Rome,  one  of  the 
great  temples  suddenly  collapsed  before  it  was  com- 
pleted, burying  in  its  ruins  many  of  the  workmen.  An 
investigation  revealed  the  fact  that  the  disaster  was 
due  to  the  use  of  broken  blocks  of  marble  cemented 
with  wax.  The  polished  surface  of  the  marble  did  not 
reveal  the  defect;  but  under  the  weight  of  the  super- 
structure, the  waxed  blocks  gave  way,  and  the  temple 
fell.  Thereafter,  so  runs  the  story,  the  builders  of  the 


WOBK    AND   CHARACTER.  163 

city  were  required  to  enter  a  contract  to  use  marble 
blocks  that  were  "Integra  et  sine  cera" — whole  and 
without  wax.  Integrity  and  sincerity,  the  character- 
istics required  in  the  work,  soon  became  the  virtues 
required  in  the  workmen.  The  real  defects  were  not 
in  the  marble  blocks  placed  in  the  temple  walls,  but 
in  the  Roman  workmen  who  lacked  integrity  and  sin- 
cerity. Wholeness  of  the  self  will  become  wholeness 
in  the  work.  If  your  work  is  to  be  integral,  the  self 
behind  it  must  not  be  fractional.  On  the  other  hand, 
unsoundness  in  the  work  tends  to  develop  unsoundness 
in  the  man.  Dishonest  service  will  make  a  dishonest 
servant.  The  work  reacts  upon  the  character.  The 
mechanical  law  that  action  and  reaction  are  equal  is 
true  also  in  morals  and  religion.  Our  own  deeds  be- 
come instruments  in  the  building  of  that  temple  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens,  that  monu- 
ment of  which  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral  is  but  the  symbol 
and  the  shadow. 


XX.     THE   MESSAGE   OF  EASTER. 

THE  annual  festival  of  Easter  is  perhaps  the  oldest 
and  most  generally  observed  of  all  the  festivals  of 
Christendom.  The  English  name  is  derived  from 
"  Ostera  "  or  "  Eastre,"  the  Teutonic  goddess  of  spring, 
who  is  supposed  to  be  identical  with  Astarte,  the  old 
Semitic  divinity  of  Syria  and  Phoenicia,  the  personifi- 
cation of  the  springtime,  providing  for  the  seeds  and 
the  beginnings  of  things.  Though  today  Easter  is 
generally  regarded  as  a  Christian  institution  com- 
memorating the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ,  it  is,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  much  older  than  the  Church ;  and  its 
real  origin  antedates  Christianity  by  more  than  two 
thousand  years.  The  old  Teutonic  festival  of  Ostera 
and  the  Jewish  Feast  of  the  Passover  occurred  about 
the  same  time  of  the  year.  The  former  celebrated 
with  numerous  pagan  rites  the  renewing  power  of 
nature;  and  the  latter,  the  wonderful  deliverance  of 
the  Israelites  from  Egyptian  bondage.  The  early 
Church  combined  the  two  into  one  great  feast  day, 
which  was  made  commemorative  of  the  resurrection  of 

Christ. 

164 


Tin;    MESSAGE    OF    EASTER.  165 

I  do  not  ask  you  this  morning  to  formulate  a  defini- 
tion of  Easter  as  a  church  festival,  nor  to  tell  me  its 
place  and  significance  in  Christian  creed  or  ecclesias- 
tical history.  Most  of  us  have  been  accustomed  from 
childhood  to  attach  to  Easter  a  sacred  significance  and 
to  regard  it  as  commemorative  of  the  risen  Christ.  To 
some,  it  is  sacred  because  of  its  association  with  the 
ancient  feast  of  the  Passover;  and  in  most  of  the 
eastern  countries  it  is  still  known  as  the  "  Pasch,"  or 
the  Paschal  Feast.  For  many  people,  unfortunately, 
the  day  still  retains  some  of  its  old  heathen  usages  and 
pagan  associations  and  is  deemed  the  proper  time  for 
frivolity  and  selfish  extravagance.  Too  often  on  this 
annual  festival,  side  by  side  with  the  sacred  rites  of 
the  Church,  we  may  find  the  worship  of  Fashion,  the 
modern  goddess  of  spring. 

Aside  from  its  purely  ecclesiastical  character,  Easter 
brings  to  the  thoughtful  many  beautiful  and  inspiring 
lessons.  The  memorial  feature  of  the  festival  signifies 
sacrifice,  suffering,  and  death.  The  central  theme  of 
its  prophetic  message  may  be  read  in  garden,  field,  and 
forest.  The  resurrection  is  an  actual  fact.  Nature 
spreads  out  her  volume  of  testimony  so  that  even  the 
youngest  may  read.  There  is  no  sorrow  out-of-doors, 
to-day.  The  earth,  released  from  the  bondage  of  winter, 
rejoices  in  the  sunshine  and  bursts  forth  into  exuberant 


166  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

life,  with  the  fragrance  of  the  budding  flower  and  the 
soulful  note  of  the  caroling  bird.  As  we  walk  among 
the  trees,  on  this  glad  spring  morning,  we  feel  the  tonic 
effect  of  the  buoyant  air ;  we  inhale  the  sweet  fragrance 
of  the  flowers ;  we  delight  in  the  varying  tints  of  grass 
and  foliage.  The  awakening  of  the  old  from  the  long 
sleep  of  winter  into  a  new  and  larger  life,  is  proclaimed 
by  every  flower,  tree,  and  shrub.  The  modest  violet 
corns  forth  into  the  sunlight.  The  unattractive  cater- 
pillar, freed  from  the  limitations  of  its  lowly  larval 
state,  emerges  into  a  higher  and  more  beautiful  life  in 
the  form  of  a  gilded  butterfly.  It  is  resurrection  day 
everywhere  in  the  organic  world.  Life  is  sweeter,  earth 
is  fairer  and  heaven  is  nearer,  as  the  windows  of  the 
soul  are  opened  to  the  beauty  of  the  world,  and  the 
heart  is  attuned  to  the  sublime  harmony  of  nature's 
resurrection  anthem. 

But  what  practical  lessons  for  us  are  contained  in 
these  manifestations  of  the  Eastertide?  What  is  the 
meaning  of  the  prophetic  voice  that  speaks  to  us 
through  elaborate  ceremonial  and  beautiful  symbolism? 
What  special  message  does  the  Easter  spirit  breathe  to 
man  ?  What  inspiration  to  higher  thinking  and  nobler 
living?  What  generous  impulses,  larger  hopes,  and 
loftier  aspirations? 

All  true  progress  is  conditioned  upon  sacrifice.     This 


THE    MESSAGE    OF    EASTER.  167 

is  the  primary  lesson  of  the  Easter  festival.  Nothing 
is  complete  in  itself.  All  things  are  correlated.  There 
is  no  day  without  a  preceding  night,  no  spring  without 
a  winter,  no  life  without  death.  There  can  be  no  resur- 
rection anywhere  without  a  crucifixion.  Throughout 
the  realm  of  nature,  the  development  of  the  higher  and 
nobler  forms  of  life  is  invariably  conditioned  upon 
struggle  and  sacrifice.  From  the  death  and  decay  of 
the  old  pldnt  springs  the  larger  life  of  the  new.  The 
birth  of  the  better  things  to  be  is  amidst  the  ruins  of 
the  things  that  were.  Within  the  grain  of  wheat  lies 
the  possibility  of  countless  other  grains,  yea,  of  the 
vast  harvest  fields  of  the  future.  But  this  grain  must 
lie  buried  in  the  earth  and  suffer  death  and  decay 
before  it  can  ever  be  more  than  a  single  grain.  It 
must  lose  its  own  identity  in  the  present,  before  it  can 
be  fruitful  in  the  future;  it  must  sacrifice  self,  if  it 
would  benefit  posterity.  The  tree,  stripped  of  its  pro- 
tecting foliage,  must  endure  the  frost  and  the  wintry 
blast,  if  it  would  bud  and  blossom  and  bear  fruit. 
Sacrifice  is  the  law  and  condition  of  all  physical 
progress;  without  a  cross,  nature  finds  no  resurrection. 
The  tragic  is  everywhere  incomplete.  In  fiction  and 
in  dramatic  literature,  the  tragedy  comes  at  the  end  of 
the  story ;  but,  in  nature's  story,  tragedy  is  the  begin- 
ning, not  the  ending.  The  better  literature  of  the 


108  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

future  will  follow  nature's  suggestion,  and  the  larger 
life  born  in  tragedy  will  be  idealized.  No  destruction 
is  final :  the  tree  dies  and  decays,  but  its  elements  pass 
on  into  other  forms  of  life.  All  tragedy  is  a  condition 
of  a  larger  life  beyond :  every  death  has  the  potency  of 
an  eternal  future. 

The  law  of  sacrifice  is  inflexible  and  universal  in 
human  life.  They  that  sow  not  shall  not  reap;  the 
spendthrifts  will  never  grow  rich;  the  prodigal  sons 
must  sooner  or  later  feed  upon  husks.  Self-denial  is 
a  fundamental  condition  of  health  and  wealth;  it  is 
the  law  of  all  growth  and  progress;  it  is  the  first 
essential  in  every  act  of  chivalry  and  in  every  deed  of 
heroism.  Sacrifice  is  the  price  of  knowledge  and  the 
only  path  to  culture.  The  frivolous  devotee  of  pleasure 
can  never  obtain  true  wisdom ;  without  toil  and  strug- 
gle and  the  sacrifice  of  selfish  interests,  the  rewards 
of  scholarship  are  unattainable.  Without  a  cruci- 
fixion, there  can  be  no  intellectual  resurrection. 

What  is  true  of  nature  is  likewise  true  of  the  higher 
life  of  the  soul.  The  deluded  slave  of  fashion  can  never 
taste  the  joys  of  a  spiritual  Easter;  the  self-centered, 
self-seeking  man  or  woman  can  never  reach  a  high 
degree  of  moral  excellence.  "  He  that  loseth  his  life 
for  my  sake,  shall  find  it."  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in 
spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  In  all 


THE    MESSAGE   OF    EASTEE.  169 

the  ages,  pain  has  been  the  choice  of  the  truly  magnani- 
mous; martyrdom  has  ever  been  the  seal  of  earth's 
noblest  heroes.  In  the  sorrow  of  daily  sacrifices,  they 
found  the  joy  of  daily  resurrections.  In  the  tragedies 
of  life's  brief  story,  they  found  the  gates  of  the  life 
immortal.  In  every  great  soul,  in  every  heroic  life,  is 
illustrated  the  truth, 

"  That  men  may  rise  on  stepping  stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 

It  is  said  of  one  of  the  old  Scottish  martyrs,  that  on 
his  crest  he  had  inscribed  as  his  motto,  "  8ub  pondere 
cresco."  Above  this  motto  was  the  figure  of  a  palm 
tree  with  suspended  weights.  The  palm  tree,  when  left 
alone,  it  is  said,  is  in  danger  of  becoming  crooked; 
but  under  heavy  weights,  it  will  grow  straight  as  an 
arrow.  The  palm  tree  is  a  fit  emblem  of  human  char- 
acter. When  left  alone  in  ease  and  luxury,  it  is  in 
danger  of  becoming  crooked;  when  weighted  with  the 
crosses  and  burdens  of  life,  it  will  grow  heavenward 
straight  as  an  arrow. 

But  the  most  beautiful  lesson  of  the  Easter  festival 
is  its  prophecy  of  immortality.  While  it  looks  back 
upon  the  cross  and  the  grave,  it  also  points  forward 
to  the  crown  of  immortal  life.  Only  the  true,  the  pure, 
and  the  good  are  worthy  of  immortality.  Truth  alone 


170  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

is  eternal.  There  can  be  no  immortality  for  envy  and 
hatred,  error  and  falsehood.  The  idle  gossipings  of 
society,  the  empty  rounds  of  pleasure,  and  the  thousand 
vanities  of  daily  existence  are,  in  their  very  nature, 
temporary  and  vanishing.  If  we  wish  to  live  the  life 
immortal,  we  must  cultivate  something  that  is  worthy 
of  immortality.  The  ribald  jest  and  the  tainted  story 
are  not  the  stuff  to  live  forever.  The  trashy  novel  and 
the  vaudeville  play  can  last  scarcely  through  a  decade 
of  years.  Can  you  imagine  these  as  the  nutriment  of 
the  soul  throughout  eternity?  But  truth  and  love  and 
charity — these  have  within  them  the  undying  essence 
of  divinity. 

The  great  practical  lesson  of  Easter  is  the  value  of 
sacrifice  in  human  life.  This  does  not  mean  that  kind 
of  sacrifice  which  yields  without  gain,  or  abandons 
without  hope.  It  is  the  sacrifice  that  makes  all  life 
sacred  and  holy;  that  lifts  our  commonplace  tasks  and 
daily  duties  out  of  the  mechanical  and  conventional 
order  and  invests  them  with  a  noble  spirit  and  a  holy 
purpose.  Such  sacrifice  dignifies  the  personality  and 
exalts  the  commonplace  drudgery  of  life  into  the  realm 
of  the  heroic.  It  involves  the  lesson  that  behind  the 
pleasure  of  achievement  lies  the  effort;  behind  the  joy 
of  the  task  performed  lies  the  toil ;  behind  the  bliss  of 
moral  victory  lies  the  temptation  and  the  struggle. 


THE    MESSAGE   OF    EASTER.  171 

The  spirit  of  Easter  teaches  us  that  our  individual  life 
may  be  daily  renewed  through  trial  and  struggle;  that 
every  task  performed  and  every  difficulty  overcome 
tends  to  make  life  richer  and  larger.  With  every 
Easter  festival  we  should  join  in  nature's  universal 
resurrection,  and,  with  a  higher  conception  of  duty  and 
destiny,  keep  step  with  the  divine  spirit  of  progress 
in  the  universe. 

"  Build  thee  more  stately  mansions,  O  my  soul, 
As  the  swift  seasons  roll ! 
Leave  thy  low  vaulted  past ! 
Let  each  new  temple,  nobler  than  the  last, 
Shut  thee  from  heaven  with  a  dome  more  vast, 
Till  thou  at  length  art  free, 
Leaving  thine  outgrown  shell  by  life's  unresting  sea." 


XXI.    THE    MISER    OF    NEW    ORLEANS. 

IN  Lafayette  Square,  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans, 
there  stands  a  beautiful  monument.  It  consists  of  a 
polished  Greek  column  of  Istrian  stone,  rising  from  a 
similar  base,  which  rests  on  a  series  of  octagonal  bases. 
The  capital  of  the  column  is  worked  out  artistically  in 
leaves  and  floral  decorations;  and  the  whole  is  sur- 
mounted with  an  heroic  bust  in  bronze,  the  central 
theme  of  the  artist's  design.  A  little  below  and  in 
front  of  this  majestic  statue,  standing  upon  projecting 
ledges  of  the  pedestal,  are  the  bronze  figures  of  two 
children,  a  boy  and  a  girl.  The  boy,  with  one  hand,  is 
laying  his  tribute  at  the  feet  of  the  hero  and,  with 
the  other,  is  grasping  the  hand  of  the  girl,  who  seems 
to  support  him  in  his  difficult  position. 

This  monument  is  remarkable  for  two  reasons.  In 
the  first  place,  it  commemorates  the  life  of  a  man,  who, 
at  the  time  of  his  death,  nearly  half  a  century  ago, 
was  accounted  by  the  people  of  New  Orleans  mean  and 
penurious,  and  who  was  reputed  to  be  the  richest  old 
miser  in  Louisiana.  It  is  remarkable,  in  the  second 
place,  because  it  was  built  entirely  at  the  expense  of 

172 


THE    MISER   OF   NEW    ORLEANS.  173 

the  public  school  children  of  New  Orleans,  in  grateful 
remembrance  of  the  city's  greatest  benefactor  and  no- 
blest philanthropist. 

These  apparently  contradictory  statements  may  be 
reconciled  only  by  telling  the  life  story  of  John  Mc- 
Donough, the  great  educational  philanthropist,  who, 
for  more  than  thirty  years,  lived  the  life  of  a  miser, 
so  that  at  his  death  he  might  bequeath  a  fortune  for 
the  education  of  the  children  of  two  cities,  Baltimore 
and  New  Orleans — the  former  the  city  of  his  birth  and 
childhood,  the  latter  the  scene  of  his  business  success, 
declining  years,  and  death. 

One  of  the  most  impressive  scenes  it  has  ever  been 
my  pleasure  to  witness  was  the  unveiling  of  this 
monument  in  December,  1898.  The  most  enthusiastic 
portion  of  the  vast  throng  that  had  gathered  to  witness 
this  interesting  ceremony  consisted  of  fifteen  thousand 
children  from  the  McDonough  schools  of  New  Orleans. 
They  had  a  right  to  be  interested  on  that  occasion; 
because  it  was  through  their  instrumentality  that  the 
monument  had  been  erected,  and  the  name  and  the 
worth  of  John  McDonough  had  thus  received  tardy 
recognition.  They  were  honoring  the  name  of  a  man 
who,  as  the  benefactor  of  childhood,  had  stamped  his 
impress  for  all  time  upon  two  great  American  cities. 

The  record  of  John  McDonough's  earthly  life,  like 


174  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

that  of  many  of  the  world's  great  benefactors,  is  brief 
and  uneventful.  His  biography  may  be  comprised  in 
three  brief  chapters,  each  covering  a  distinct  era  in  his 
career.  The  first  tells  us  of  his  birth,  childhood,  and 
young  manhood,  in  the  city  of  Baltimore.  This  period 
is  uninteresting  save  as  it  gives  evidence  of  the  strong 
purpose  and  earnest  endeavor  which  were  to  mature 
later  into  the  indomitable  character  of  a  successful 
man  of  affairs.  His  school  education  was  meager ;  but 
it  gave  him  the  foundation  upon  which  he  erected, 
through  self-instruction,  a  substantial  superstructure 
of  wide  knowledge  and  sympathetic  learning.  Through 
habits  of  systematic  self-improvement  and  painstaking 
attention  to  duty,  he  soon  attained  a  conspicuous  place 
among  his  associates.  His  early  apprenticeship  in  the 
mercantile  business  was  characterized  by  industry, 
accuracy,  intelligence,  and  integrity.  These  virtues  of 
the  youth  constitute  the  corner  stones  of  the  remark- 
ably successful  business  career  of  the  man. 

The  second  period  of  his  life  comprises  his  wonderful 
success  as  a  man  of  business  in  the  city  of  New  Or- 
leans. Undaunted  by  commercial  reverses,  he  forged 
to  the  front  and  laid  the  solid  foundation  of  his  fortune 
by  large  purchases  of  land  at  low  prices,  from  the 
French  and  Spanish  governments.  In  1803,  the  pur- 
chase of  the  Louisiana  Territory  by  the  United  States 


THE    MISER   OP    NEW    ORLEANS.  175 

government  gave  a  fresh  impetus  to  southern  trade 
and  brought  increased  commercial  prosperity  to  New 
Orleans.  Already  the  wealthiest  man  in  the  territory, 
and  the  largest  individual  landowner  in  the  world,  he 
enormously  increased  his  wealth,  as  his  vast  estates 
multiplied  in  value.  So  rapid  had  been  the  growth  of 
his  fortune  that,  in  1806,  he  was  forced  to  retire  from 
active  business  in  order  that  he  might  devote  himself 
exclusively  to  the  management  of  his  landed  interests. 
During  this  period,  McDonough  did  no£  live  the  life 
of  an  ascetic,  but  took  an  intelligent  interest  in  the 
social  and  political  life  of  the  people  among  whom  he 
lived.  He  enjoyed  the  comforts  and  pleasures  of  life 
to  which  he  was  entitled  by  his  wealth  and  social 
standing.  His  extensive  establishment  on  the  corner 
of  Chartres  and  Toulouse  streets  was  the  center  of 
fashion  and  gayety.  His  entertainments  were  lavish, 
and  among  his  guests  were  the  leaders  of  fashion  and 
society  in  the  old  French-American  city.  With  horses 
and  carriages  and  a  great  retinue  of  servants,  he  lived 
the  life  of  a  man  of  the  world  and  dazzled  the  elegant 
French  society  of  the  time  with  the  splendor  and  grace 
of  his  social  triumphs. 

But  suddenly,  a  mighty  change  occurred  in  John 
McDonough's  manner  of  life;  and  we  enter  upon  the 
third  chapter  of  his  career,  in  many  respects  a  striking 


176  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

contrast  to  the  one  just  given.  He  was  now  in  his 
fortieth  year.  His  elegant  mansion  was  vacated; 
his  furniture,  horses  and  carriages  were  sold ;  he  aban- 
doned the  social  gayeties  of  which  he  had  been  the 
center  and  separated  himself  completely  from  the  life 
of  the  world.  Society  wondered,  and  friends  remon- 
strated ;  but,  grimly  and  persistently,  John  McDonough 
followed  his  chosen  manner  of  life  and  declined  to  give 
any  reason  for  the  change  that  seemed  utterly  inexpli- 
cable to  his  friends.  He  moved  to  his  plantation  across 
the  river  at  McDonoughville,  where  he  occupied  a  small, 
unpretentious,  simply  furnished  house.  Here,  removed 
from  the  noise  and  din  of  the  city,  he  lived  a  simple, 
frugal  life.  He  had  a  scow  rowed  by  two  negroes, 
which  carried  him  across  the  river  every  morning  to 
his  business  office,  and  back  again  to  his  home  late  in 
the  evening.  For  more  than  thirty  years,  he  continued 
without  interruption  this  quiet  mode  of  life,  devoting 
himself  with  increasing  energy  to  the  task  of  accumu- 
lating wealth.  As  time  wore  on,  his  name  became 
a  byword  throughout  the  territory.  His  fabulous 
wealth,  peculiar  habits,  and  unique  personality  were 
the  topics  of  conversation  among  all  classes  of  people. 
He  seemed  to  live  apart  from  the  world  and  to  be 
laboring  under  the  burden  of  a  great  task.  Some 
thought  he  was  insane,  and  others  thought  his  love  of 


THE    MISER   OP    NEW    ORLEANS.  177 

gold  had  made  him  selfish  and  miserly.  On  the  streets 
he  was  jeered  and  taunted  by  the  thoughtless  youth  of 
the  day;  and  his  name  was  the  subject  of  jest  and 
ridicule  in  the  social  circles  of  the  city.  Still  he 
continued  unmoved,  in  his  own  quiet,  simple  way, 
regardless  alike  of  jest  and  jeer,  bent  upon  some  great 
purpose  hidden  in  his  soul  from  the  view  of  an  un- 
sympathizing  world.  Much  did  he  suffer,  not  alone 
from  sneer  and  incivility,  but  also  from  injustice  and 
oppression.  But  he  moved  steadily  onward  without 
faltering  and  without  murmuring,  until  his  seventy- 
first  year  of  age,  when  death,  the  great  revealer  of  life, 
came  to  make  manifest  to  the  world  the  mission  of  the 
miser  of  New  Orleans. 

So  far  as  mortal  eye  could  see,  John  McDonough  had 
lived  to  little  purpose :  to  the  multitudes  who  read  the 
news  of  his  death,  his  life  had  been  mean  and  selfish. 
But  the  real  life  of  this  mysterious  man  was  not  re- 
vealed until  he  was  gone.  The  greatest  and  most 
significant  period  of  his  life  began  with  his  death. 
With  the  perspective  of  half  a  century,  the  people  of 
New  Orleans  have  learned  to  love  and  honor  Old  John 
McDonough,  as  one  of  the  best  and  noblest  men  .that 
ever  walked  the  streets  of  that  southern  metropolis. 

A  few  days  after  his  death,  the  provisions  of  his 


178  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

will  were  made  public.  His  fortune,  at  that  time  con- 
sidered fabulous,  was  bequeathed  in  trust  for  the 
education  of  the  poor  children  of  Baltimore  and  New 
Orleans.  As  Caesar's  will,  published  by  Marc  Antony, 
changed  the  hearts  of  the  Roman  mob,  so  did  the  pub- 
lication of  the  will  of  John  McDonough  change  the 
verdict  of  the  people  regarding  his  life  and  character. 
During  those  silent  years  he  had  toiled  and  sacrificed 
that  he  might  serve  the  future.  Misunderstood  and 
reviled  by  his  fellow-men,  he  had  consecrated  himself  to 
the  task  of  building  free  schools  for  those  who  were 
without  educational  advantages.  He  considered  him- 
self merely  as  the  agent,  "  the  steward  of  God,"  in 
accumulating  a  fortune  for  a  noble  purpose.  Thus, 
at  his  death,  the  selfish  old  miser  of  the  McDonough 
plantation  became  the  noble  philanthropist  of  New 
Orleans. 

The  world  is  too  often  premature  in  its  judgments 
of  men  and  unjust  in  its  verdicts  upon  human  life.  It 
condemned  John  McDonough  while  he  lived,  as  a 
sordid  miser ;  but,  after  his  death,  it  built  a  monument 
to  commemorate  his  life  as  that  of  a  great  philan- 
thropist. There  are  some  human  lives  that  cannot  be 
appreciated  at  close  range.  So  it  was  with  John 
McDonough.  His  contemporaries  stood  too  near  his 
great  soul  and  unique  personality  to  understand  the 


THE    MISEE   OF   NEW    ORLEANS.  179 

man;  it  required  the  perspective  of  half  a  century  to 
comprehend  fully  the  purpose  of  his  life. 

For  thirty  years,  John  McDonough  lived  a  life  of 
sadness,  silence,  and  seclusion.  In  the  solitude  of  his 
own  thoughts,  he  cherished  a  noble  purpose  which  was 
to  be  revealed  only  after  his  death.  In  the  center  of 
his  being,  he  erected  a  "  holy  of  holies,"  which  could 
not  be  entered  by  his  contemporaries.  But  today  the 
sadness  of  his  life  has  been  converted  into  joy  and  sun- 
shine for  the  twenty  thousand  children  who  attend  the 
McDonough  Schools  of  New  Orleans;  the  silence  of 
those  long  years  finds  twenty  thousand  youthful  voices 
singing  his  praises  and  preaching  the  gospel  of  peace 
and  good-will  to  men  through  personal  sacrifice;  and 
the  wealth  he  gathered  is  being  daily  transmuted  into 
virtue  and  intelligence,  truth  and  justice.  During 
those  thirty  years  of  silent  endeavor,  John  McDonough 
regarded  himself  as,  in  the  highest  sense,  a  minister  of 
God,  consecrated  to  the  one  unselfish  purpose  of  pro- 
viding for  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  upbuilding  of 
future  generations.  He  sought  no  reward  in  the  praises 
of  men ;  he  asked  for  no  approval  save  that  of  his  own 
conscience.  In  his  will,  he  asked  but  one  favor  of  the 
future;  and  that  request  reveals  the  pathetic  loneliness 
of  his  life  and  the  yearning  of  his  soul  for  that  simple 
recognition  which  comes  from  the  heart  of  childhood. 


180  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

"  I  have  still  one  small  request  to  make,"  he  says,  "  one 
small  favor  to  ask,  and  it  shall  be  the  last, — it  is  that 
it  may  be  permitted  annually  to  the  children  of  the  free 
schools  situated  nearest  to  the  place  of  my  interment, 
to  plant  and  water  a  few  flowers  around  my  grave. 
This  little  act  will  have  a  double  tendency ;  it  will  open 
their  young  and  susceptible  hearts  to  gratitude  and 
love  to  their  Divine  Creator,  for  having  raised  up,  as 
the  humble  instrument  of  His  bounty  to  them,  a  poor 
worm  of  the  dust,  like  me,  and  teach  them  at  the  same 
time  what  they  are,  whence  they  came,  and  whither 
they  must  return." 

The  silence  and  the  sadness  of  the  past  are  forgotten ; 
the  sacrifice  and  the  suffering  of  life  are  crowned  with 
victory;  and  the  miser  New  Orleans  knew  for  thirty 
years  lives  immortal,  as  the  philanthropist,  while 
generation  after  generation  of  children  rise  up  to  call 
him  blessed. 


XXII.     THE   STORY  OF  ECHO  AND 
NARCISSUS. 

THE  childhood  of  the  race  was  entertained  by  inter- 
esting stories.  Some  of  these  creations  seem  fantastic 
and  meaningless  to  us  today,  while  many  of  them 
teach  lessons  that  are  still  helpful  and  elevating  to  the 
childhood  and  youth  of  the  present  age. 

Among  these  mythical  tales,  we  find  the  story  of  a 
beautiful  oread  or  mountain  nymph.  This  mythical 
maiden  was  lithe  and  graceful;  and  her  beauty  had 
attracted  the  attention  of  Jupiter  and  Juno,  who  made 
frequent  excursions  from  the  heights  of  Olympus  to 
visit  the  nymphs  of  earth.  But  this  fair  maiden  had 
one  grievous  fault :  like  many  other  beautiful  maidens, 
she  talked  too  much.  In  addition  to  her  disagreeable 
habit  of  mimicking  others,  she  seems  to  have  been  par- 
ticularly fond  of  talking  of  herself  and  of  her  beauty, 
and  in  every  conversation  she  would  always  have  the 
last  word.  Her  vanity  became  intolerable  to  Juno, 
and  she  talked  so  much  and  so  fast  that  the  goddess 
could  not  even  get  a  chance  to  give  her  a  word  of  ad- 
vice. At  last,  the  offended  goddess  decided  to  punish 

181 


182  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

her;  so  she  decreed  that  she  should  henceforth  con- 
tinue to  have  the  last  word,  but  never  the  first;  she 
should  be  allowed  to  talk,  but  only  after  other  people. 
So  this  airy  maiden,  henceforth  called  Echo,  had  no 
power  to  begin  a  conversation;  she  had  to  wait  until 
others  had  spoken,  before  she  could  speak.  She  wan- 
dered about  through  the  forest,  over  the  mountains, 
and  among  the  rocks  and  the  trees,  waiting  for  some- 
body to  speak,  so  that  she  could  have  a  chance  to  say 
a  word.  One  day,  Echo  saw  a  proud  and  handsome 
youth  called  Narcissus,  as  he  bounded  through  the 
forest  engaged  in  the  chase.  Instantly  she  fell  in  love 
with  him  and  longed  to  enter  into  conversation;  but 
alas,  she  had  no  power  to  address  him.  She  must  wait 
for  him  to  speak  the  first  word.  So  long  and  wearily 
she  followed  him,  waiting  for  him  to  speak.  One  day, 
when  Narcissus  had  wandered  away  from  his  com- 
panions in  the  hunt  and  become  lost  in  the  woods, 
he  cried  out  as  loud  as  he  could,  "  Ho  there ! " 
"  There ! "  immediately  answered  Echo,  glad  at  last  to 
have  a  chance  to  speak  to  Narcissus.  "  Why  don't  you 
come  to  me?"  again  cried  Narcissus.  "Come  to  me," 
answered  Echo.  "  Let  us  get  together,"  said  Narcissus. 
"  Get  together,"  replied  Echo.  Then  she  rushed  for- 
ward to  embrace  him,  but  Narcissus  recognized  her  and 
fled,  "  I  am  determined  you  shall  not  have  me,"  he 


THE    STORY    OF    ECHO   AND    NARCISSUS.  183 

said.  "  Have  me !  Have  me !  "  cried  Echo,  almost  in 
despair.  But  Narcissus  would  not  speak  to  her  again, 
and  ran  away  as  fast  as  he  could,  leaving  poor  Echo  to 
hide  her  blushes,  her  grief  and  disappointment,  in  the 
shades  of  the  forest.  She  pined  away  through  grief 
and  shame.  Her  flesh  disappeared,  and  her  bones 
changed  into  rocks  that  formed  a  part  of  the  rugged 
mountain  cliffs,  leaving  nothing  of  Echo  but  her  voice, 
which  still  wanders  aimlessly  among  the  groves  and 
mountain  glens,  repeating  snatches  of  songs  and  con- 
versations that  she  hears  from  others. 

But  the  proud  Narcissus  fared  no  better.  He  had 
been  cruel  to  other  nymphs  besides  Echo  and  had  dis- 
dained all  their  efforts  to  attract  his  interest.  He  was 
supremely  selfish  and  loved  nothing  on  earth  but  him- 
self. One  day,  a  nymph  prayed  to  the  goddess  of 
beauty  that  Narcissus  might  some  time  know  what  it 
was  to  love  and  not  have  that  love  requited;  and  the 
avenging  goddess  answered  the  prayer.  It  chanced  one 
day  that  Narcissus,  hot  and  thirsty  from  the  chase, 
came  to  a  beautiful  fountain  in  the  forest;  the  grass 
was  green  around  it,  and  the  rocks  protected  it  from 
the  wild  beasts.  Its  limpid  waters  shone  like  silver 
and  reflected  the  image  of  Narcissus  as  he  stooped  to 
drink.  At  once  he  fell  in  love  with  his  own  reflected 
image,  thinking  that  he  had  found  some  beautiful  water 


184  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

spirit  in  its  fountain  home.  Long  he  gazed  with  ad- 
miration upon  the  rounded  cheeks,  the  curly  locks,  and 
the  beautiful  eyes,  and  loved  himself  to  distraction. 
He  leaned  over  to  kiss  the  image  and  stretched  forth 
his  arms  to  embrace  it.  The  image  fled  for  a  moment, 
but  returned  again  to  mock  him  with  its  fascinating 
presence.  He  could  not  leave  the  fountain ;  he  lost  all 
desire  for  food  or  rest  and  thought  of  nothing  but  the 
image,  gazing  upon  it  long  and  tenderly  and  calling 
to  it  in  endearing  terms.  The  image  came  and  went, 
disturbed  by  his  falling  tears;  but  Narcissus  still  re- 
mained. The  flame  of  passion  at  last  consumed  him 
so  that  he  lost  his  strength  and  his  beauty ;  and,  in  his 
despair,  he  cried  out,  "  Alas !  Alas ! "  Echo,  who 
hovered  near  him,  mockingly  replied :  "  Alas !  Alas !  " 
After  many  days  of  weary  watching,  Narcissus  pined 
away  and  died  of  love  of  self.  The  sympathetic  nymphs 
prepared  a  funeral  pile  and  would  have  burned  the 
body,  but  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  It  had  mysteri- 
ously disappeared;  and  in  its  place  had  grown  a  little 
flower  of  purple  and  white,  which  still  preserves  the 
name  and  memory  of  Narcissus. 

Few  of  the  stories  of  classical  literature  are  so  re- 
plete with  human  interest  as  this  simple  tale  of  primi- 
tive life.  It  is  a  mirror  held  up  to  nature,  reflecting 
human  frailties  and  their  consequences  as  clearly  as 


THE    STORY    OF    ECHO   AND   NARCISSUS.  185 

the  forest  fountain  reflected  the  features  of  Narcissus. 
It  is  a  story  that  tells  its  own  moral,  and  its  lessons 
are  applicable  to  any  age  or  country. 

Echo  was  not  the  first  nor  the  last  to  bring  upon  her- 
self the  direful  results  of  talking  too  much.  The  gar- 
rulous individual  is  never  highly  esteemed  by  his  asso- 
ciates. Volubility  is  never  accepted  as  an  evidence 
of  real  worth.  The  incessant  talker  passes  judgment 
upon  himself,  and  he  is  accepted  as  a  person  of  little 
weight.  People  who  give  themselves  little  time  to 
think,  can  scarcely  be  expected  to  have  anything  worth 
while  to  say.  There  must  be  much  golden  silence 
before  we  can  expect  speech  that  is  silver.  When  to 
talk  and  how  much  to  say,  only  the  wise  understand. 
Young  people  who  talk  during  sermon  or  lecture 
advertise  their  own  emptiness  of  thought  and  want  of 
judgment. 

You  will  observe  that  the  original  cause  of  poor 
Echo's  downfall  was  not  simply  the  fault  of  talking 
too  much,  but  the  unfortunate  habit  of  talking  back  at 
people.  This  very  human  habit  of  talking  back  has 
brought  ruin  to  millions  of  beings  more  substantial 
than  the  airy  maiden  of  the  ancient  myth  and  has 
brought  sorrow  and  disgrace  to  many  millions  more. 
The  little  boy  who  found  for  the  first  time  that  his  loud 
and  angry  words  came  back  to  him  in  the  same  tones 


186  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

had  made  an  important  discovery  in  social  philosophy. 
It  is  the  talking  back,  the  hot  and  hasty  retort,  that 
lies  at  the  bottom  of  most  of  life's  troubles.  When 
frown  responds  to  frown  and  angry  words  are  echoed 
back,  the  seeds  of  hate  and  strife  and  murder  take  root 
and  grow  in  human  hearts.  Friendship  is  shattered, 
love  is  blasted,  family  life  is  ruined,  and  the  peace  of 
communities,  states,  and  nations  is  continually  jeo- 
pardized by  this  commonplace  habit  of  talking  back. 
Echo  is  ever  sensitive,  ever  responsive.  The  girl  who 
allows  herself  to  become  a  spitfire  among  her  com- 
panions, and  the  boy  who  is  so  quarrelsome  that  none 
can  get  along  with  him,  are  suffering  from  Echo's 
trouble;  they  reflect  too  easily  the  anger  and  hate 
they  find  in  their  associates.  I  asked  two  high-strung 
brothers  the  secret  of  their  peaceful  companionship: 
"  We  never  get  angry  at  the  same  time,"  was  the  reply. 
If  one  was  angry  the  other  did  not  talk  back ;  neither 
was  an  echo.  I  met  a  street-car  conductor  the  other 
day  who,  for  five  years,  has  performed  his  arduous 
duties  in  rain  and  sunshine  and  has  never  quarrelled 
with  a  passenger.  I  asked  him  the  secret.  "  It  is  very 
simple,"  he  said:  "when  I  see  a  passenger  is  angry,  I 
answer  in  a  quiet,  kindly  tone,  or  hold  my  tongue;  I 
never  talk  back,  and  it  always  takes  two  to  make  a 
quarrel."  This  is  good  common  sense  as  well  as  sound 


THE   STORY   OF   ECHO  AND   NARCISSUS.  187 

philosophy.  Truly,  "  A  soft  answer  turneth  away 
wrath."  Echo's  impulse  to  talk  back  grew  into  a  habit 
so  strong  that  at  last  she  dared  to  talk  back  to  the  very 
gods;  and  for  punishment,  she  was  condemned  to  talk 
back  through  all  eternity. 

But  Echo's  voice  is  not  always  angry.  She  is  often 
flippant,  often  frivolous. 

Light  and  trivial  conversation  always  involves  imita- 
tion. The  average  person  is  content  with  mere  repeti- 
tion. The  themes  of  social  intercourse  seldom  rise 
above  the  plane  of  the  shop,  the  daily  market,  the  new- 
est novel,  or  the  latest  newspaper  sensation.  Too  often 
they  descend  to  the  level  of  scandal  or  the  spicy 
personal  gossip  of  the  street.  The  discussion  seldom 
passes  beyond  the  rehearsal  of  what  was  said  by  some- 
body about  something  or  somebody,  and  what  some- 
body else  thought  about  it.  Repetition  is  the  keynote 
to  a  large  part  of  the  social  intercourse  of  the  day. 

The  result  of  persistent  imitation  is  invariably  the 
loss  of  power.  This  was  Echo's  punishment.  She  lost 
her  power  of  initiative.  She  could  only  repeat  what 
others  had  said.  She  finally  dwindled  away  until  she 
was  nothing  but  a  voice,  an  empty  sound.  The  student 
who  is  content  to  repeat  from  memory  the  words  of  the 
text-book,  who  rides  his  way  through  his  Latin  text 


188  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

with  the  aid  of  a  "  pony/'  or  copies  his  mathematical 
solutions  from  his  neighbor,  is  in  serious  danger  of 
bringing  upon  himself  the  curse  of  Echo,  and  will 
eventually  lose  the  power  of  original  thought  and  in- 
dependent effort.  The  young  men  and  women  in  school 
and  college,  who  will  copy  pages  of  encyclopedias  or 
magazine  articles  and  hand  them  to  their  teachers  as 
original  compositions,  must  very  soon  be  as  devoid  of 
thought  power  aa  they  are  of  common  honesty.  The 
scores  of  young  men  and  women  who  pose  before  the 
public  as  the  authors  of  beribboned  essays  written  by 
somebody  else  are  so  many  powerless  voices  repeating 
the  thoughts  of  others ;  they  are  the  Echoes  of  modern 
school  life. 

The  world  is  full  of  human  parrots,  people  who  never 
grow  beyond  the  stage  of  imitation  and  repetition. 
The  average  joke  recited  with  such  keen  relish  at  the 
corner  grocery  store  or  in  the  hotel  lobby  is  usually  as 
old  as  human  nature,  and  has  probably  been  repeated, 
in  some  form,  by  every  generation  of  mankind.  The 
professional  jester,  however,  will  tell  it  again  and  again 
as  new,  and  will  often  claim  credit  for  its  invention. 

The  parrot  really  believes  he  is  original.  His  habit 
of  imitation  has  become  his  normal  state.  The  lack  of 
power  today  in  press,  pulpit,  and  platform,  is  due 


THE    STORY    OF    ECHO   AND    NARCISSUS.  189 

largely  to  that  servile  imitation  which  results  in  the 
loss  of  originality  and  independent  thought. 

Another  result  of  imitation  is  uselessness.  Echo 
wanders  about  in  a  helpless  and  useless  state  of  de- 
pendence upon  others.  The  most  inefficient  people  in 
the  world  are  those  who  can  only  follow  the  crowd; 
they  are  useful  only  as  the  phonograph  is  useful,  to  re- 
produce what  others  have  created.  Such  people  never 
have  any  political  principles  until  the  party  leaders 
have  spoken  or  the  party  platform  has  been  written. 
They  never  can  tell  you  their  religious  beliefs  until  they 
have  refreshed  their  memories  by  reading  anew  the 
articles  of  their  church  creed.  They  have  no  views  or 
opinions  upon  any  subject  until  some  one  else  has 
spoken ;  then  you  are  likely  to  hear  their  empty  voices 
resounding  from  every  hill  and  hollow.  The  phono- 
graph is  a  very  interesting  invention;  but  it  has  no 
creative  genius,  no  power  of  originality.  You  have  only 
to  turn  the  crank  and  it  will  give  you  abundance  of 
sound;  but  it  is  all  second-hand,  it  is  all  imitation. 
We  want  fewer  phonographs  and  more  original  think- 
ers and  courageous  leaders. 

In  the  character  of  Narcissus,  we  have  the  extreme 
counterpart  of  Echo.  If  the  latter  is  dependent  and 
wanting  in  creative  and  initiative  power,  the  former  is 
narrow  in  his  independence  and  self-limited  in  his  re- 


190  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

sources.  Narcissus  is  proud,  haughty,  and  self-cen- 
tered, the  embodiment  of  egotism  and  self-conscious- 
ness. An  ardent  worshiper  of  self,  he  sees  nothing 
else  in  the  universe  worthy  of  his  respect  and  admira- 
tion. There  is  no  beauty  or  excellence  anywhere,  un- 
less it  contributes  in  some  way  to  his  own  pride  and 
self-esteem.  His  house,  his  children,  his  dogs  and  his 
horses,  are  incomparably  superior  to  those  of  his  neigh- 
bor, simply  because  they  form  a  part  of  himself.  The 
supremely  selfish  man  even  excludes  his  family,  and 
worships  self  in  the  narrow  personal  sense.  He  is  ex- 
clusive in  his  love  and  admiration  and  limits  his  in- 
terests to  the  narrow  sphere  of  the  personal  self.  The 
unselfish  man  is  he  who  enlarges  the  self  by  taking  into 
it  his  family,  his  community,  his  state,  and  his  country. 
This  larger  self  has  larger  interests,  larger  emotions, 
and  wider  sympathies.  Narcissus  limits  his  affections 
to  the  personal  self.  He  scorns  love  and  sentiment  and 
recognizes  no  obligations  to  his  neighbors.  His  social 
development  has  not  even  reached  the  tribal  state  of  a 
barbaric  race.  His  personal  virtues  are  large  in  his 
own  eyes ;  they  are  viewed  at  such  close  range  that  they 
obscure  the  virtues  of  others.  He  is  always  looking 
at  his  own  image  and  loves  himself  to  distraction. 
How  wretched  is  the  man  who  can  see  in  earth  and 
sky,  in  literature  and  art,  in  State  and  in  Church,  in 


THE    STORY   OP    ECHO   AND   NARCISSUS.  191 

the  very  fountains  of  life,  no  abiding  beauty,  no  en- 
trancing visions,  nothing  but  the  poor  reflection  of  his 
impotent  self! 

Where  self  becomes  the  center  of  our  thought  and 
activity,  and  the  fabric  of  our  visions,  it  is  natural  that 
we  should  see  all  things  only  in  their  relation  to  that 
self.  Then  our  wealth,  our  culture,  our  government, 
our  religion,  and  even  heaven  itself,  are  of  worth  and 
value  only  as  they  contribute  to  our  personal  comfort 
and  selfish  enjoyment. 

Narcissus  is  unconscious  of  the  cruelty  that,  by  his 
thoughtlessness  and  selfishness,  he  is  daily  inflicting 
upon  others.  He  scorns  love  and  patriotism,  faith  and 
charity,  as  well  as  the  common  courtesies  and  graces 
of  life,  except  so  far  as  they  may  magnify  his  self- 
esteem  and  personal  glory.  If  he  is  a  business  man,  he 
adopts  as  his  motto,  "Business  is  business";  if  a  sol- 
dier, "  War  is  war  " ;  if  a  politician,  "  Politics  is  poli- 
tics." These  epigrammatic  formulas,  if  they  have  any 
meaning  for  him  at  all,  are  simply  subterfuges  for  dis- 
honesty, cruelty,  and  injustice.  He  recognizes  no  ob- 
ligation to  introduce  into  his  sphere  of  action  the  broad 
principles  of  universal  justice  and  humanity. 

Narcissus  is  a  too  familiar  character  everywhere. 
We  find  him  frequently  on  our  street  cars,  occupying 
a  whole  seat  by  himself,  absorbed  in  a  newspaper  per- 


192  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

haps,  and  oblivious  to  the  presence  in  the  aisle  of  a 
feeble  old  man  or  woman  struggling  to  stand.  We 
find  him  on  a  crowded  railway  car,  apparently  asleep, 
occupying  two  seats, — one  for  himself  and  one  for  his 
baggage  and  his  feet, — while  the  men  and  women  in 
the  aisle  must  get  along  without  seats  as  best  they  can. 
We  find  him  in  the  church,  holding  fast  to  the  end  of 
the  pew,  while  those  who  may  come  in  later  must 
squeeze  their  way  beyond  him.  We  find  him  in  the 
school,  thoughtless,  heartless,  and  cruel,  ever  seeking 
his  own  comfort,  his  own  pleasure,  trying  to  get  the 
best  of  everything  and  of  everybody,  regardless  of  the 
rights  or  the  feelings  of  his  fellows. 

But  the  end  of  Narcissus  is  no  more  enviable  than 
that  of  Echo.  "  Seest  thou  a  man  wise  in  his  own  con- 
ceit? There  is  more  hope  of  a  fool  than  of  him."  He 
pines  away  for  the  love  of  self,  and  loses  all  desire  for 
intellectual  and  spiritual  nourishment.  He  starves  his 
better  nature,  dwarfs  his  own  soul,  and  dies  a  wretched 
death,  bequeathing  to  the  world  nothing  but  a  little 
flower,  the  emblem  of  mental  torpor  and  spiritual  sleep. 

Cultivate  originality  in  thought  and  work ;  do  not  be 
content  to  remain  through  life,  a  mere  echo  of  some- 
body else.  Enlarge  your  personality  by  taking  into  it 
the  best  interests  of  other  persons;  ennoble  your  life 
by  taking  into  it  the  best  influences  of  other  lives;  en- 


THE   STORY    OF    ECHO   AND    NARCISSUS.  193 

rich  your  own  work  by  sympathetic  aid  in  the  work  of 
others.  Then  will  your  larger,  richer,  nobler  self  be- 
come a  potent  influence  for  good  in  the  world;  and 
when  you  are  gone,  your  memory  will  not  be  a  mere 
Echo,  nor  your  monument  a  Narcissus. 


XXIII.  THE  VALUE  OF  THE  IDEAL. 

"Your  young  men  shall  see  visions."— Joel  ii.  28. 

THE  ideal  has  value  as  well  as  the  practical;  the 
dream  is  as  essential  as  the  reality.  In  the  forge  of 
life,  the  ideal  becomes  the  mold  of  the  actual.  In  this 
material  age,  we  are  apt  to  over-estimate  the  practical 
phase  of  life  and  to  neglect  the  ideal;  we  are  apt  to 
stress  the  culture  of  the  reason  and  the  will  and  ignore 
the  imagination.  We  need  to  be  reminded  that  the 
unity  and  the  completeness  of  life  require  the  ideal  as 
well  as  the  practical.  The  idealist  has  always  been  the 
prophet  of  his  generation,  the  seer  of  better  things  to 
come.  Without  him,  there  could  be  no  poetry,  no  art, 
no  science;  without  him,  there  could  be  no  invention, 
no  enterprise,  no  progress.  He  is  the  propelling  force 
that  moves  society  onward.  All  the  great  forward 
movements  of  civilization  were  born  of  idealism.  In 
every  age,  the  leaders  of  human  thought  and  activity 
have  been  men  of  creative  imagination ;  they  have  been 
the  poets  and  the  philosophers,  the  moral  and  social  re- 
formers, the  prophets  and  seers  of  their  time,  who, 
during  life,  were  contemptuously  called  dreamers  and 

194 


THE   VALUE   OP   THE    IDEAL.  195 

idealists  by  their  now  forgotten  practical  contempora- 
ries. 

The  practical  man  is  not  without  his  value,  but  that 
value  is  negative  rather  than  positive.  He  is  the  social 
and  industrial  brake ;  he  keeps  the  car  of  progress  from 
danger  by  holding  it  back.  A  brake  is  an  excellent 
thing  to  have,  but  it  has  no  motor  force;  it  has  no 
power  to  propel.  The  man  who  has  no  ideals  is  hope- 
lessly stranded;  he  can  never  accomplish  any  lasting 
good,  either  for  himself  or  for  others.  The  man  who 
never  dreams  by  day  nor  sees  visions  by  night  is  chained 
like  Prometheus  to  the  rock  of  materialism ;  he  has  lost 
the  power  of  spiritual  insight  because  he  is  unable  to 
project  himself  beyond  the  limitations  of  the  actual. 

The  saddest  of  life's  tragedies  is  the  death  of  the 
soul's  ideals.  Let  us  not  think  it  unmanly  to  indulge 
in  day-dreams.  That  hour  spent  in  speechless  reverie 
is  not  altogether  an  idle  hour ;  that  hour  of  vague  long- 
ing and  of  silent  communion  with  your  soul  is  not  an 
hour  altogether  lost.  Have  you  never,  in  some  moment 
of  illumination,  journeyed  upon  the  subtle  wings  of 
imagination,  far  beyond  the  petty  cares  of  the  little 
world  in  which  you  live,  into  a  new  and  splendid  uni- 
verse of  which  you  were  the  creator  and  the  ruler? 
Such  excursions  into  the  unseen,  though  laughed  at  by 
the  unthinking,  possess  an  inestimable  educational 


196  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

value.  The  dreams  of  childhood  are  more  potent  than 
we  think  in  shaping  human  destiny. 

"What  entered  into  thee, 
That  was,  is,  and  shall  be." 

Some  of  the  greatest  masterpieces  of  art  have  had  their 
beginning  in  the  reveries  of  a  child,  wandering  along 
the  banks  of  a  forest  stream ;  some  of  the  greatest  works 
of  literature  have  had  their  inspiration  in  the  day- 
dreams of  a  boy  behind  the  plough.  Many  of  the  heroic 
characters  of  history  have  been  the  realized  dreams  of 
youth.  It  was  as  a  shepherd,  alone  in  the  solitude  of 
the  desert,  that  Moses  heard  in  the  burning  bush  the 
voice  of  the  angel  and  received  his  commission  to  de- 
liver the  Israelites  from  Egyptian  bondage ;  and  we  are 
told  that  "  He  endured  as  one  seeing  the  Invisible." 
David  was  only  a  shepherd  boy  when  he  was  anointed 
leader  of  the  armies  of  Israel  and  bore  away  in  triumph 
the  head  of  the  Philistine  giant.  In  the  stone  quarries 
of  Scotland,  Hugh  Miller  dreamed  out  his  remarkable 
career  as  a  geologist;  and  Webster's  matchless  oratory 
was  the  realization  of  his  day-dreams  on  his  father's 
farm.  Christine  Nilsson,  while  attending  the  country 
fairs  of  Sweden  as  a  little  flower  girl,  was  longing  for 
mastery  in  the  art  of  music  and  dreaming  of  the  day 
when  she  should  charm  great  audiences  with  her  gift 


THE   VALUE   OP   THE    IDEAL.  197 

of  song.  The  air  castles  of  childhood  have  often  be- 
come models  for  the  more  substantial  creations  of  man- 
hood. 

It  is  noble  indeed  to  have  great  dreams,  and  to  prove 
our  faith  in  them  by  converting  them  into  great  real- 
ities. Our  desires,  our  prayers,  our  longings — these 
are  the  necessary  forerunners  of  attainment.  As 
Lowell  so  beautifully  says: 

"  The  thing  we  long  for,  that  we  are 
For  one  transcendent  moment." 

Who  can  estimate  the  influence  of  childhood's  day- 
dreams upon  the  world's  history?  The  boys  who 
ploughed  in  rooty  ground  and  dreamed  between  roots 
of  great  things  to  come,  have  written  great  books, 
painted  great  pictures,  sung  great  songs,  and  estab- 
lished great  business  enterprises,  because  in  their  boy- 
hood days  they  were  fortunate  enough  to  have  a  chance 
to  be  alone  and  to  dream  in  the  solitude  of  the  farm. 
Country-bred  boys  and  girls  have  ever  been  the  great- 
est dreamers.  The  lives  of  city-bred  youth  are  too 
busy  and  too  full  of  the  petty,  material  cares  of  the 
present,  for  dreams  and  visions  of  the  future;  their 
souls  are  too  much  disturbed  by  the  rude  jostle  and  dis- 
cordant din  of  the  city's  social  whirl  to  enjoy  an  hour 
of  splendid  dreaming.  This  is  the  glorious  privilege  of 


198  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

life  in  the  country.  Here,  nature  by  her  magic  spell 
transports  the  soul  to  Pisgah's  height,  and,  lifting  the 
veil  from  the  promised  land  beyond,  reveals  to  the  en- 
raptured youth  visions  of  beauty  and  power.  This  is 
the  real  secret  of  the  success  of  country-bred  youth  in 
business  and  professional  life.  Their  life  work  is  but 
the  realization  of  childhood  dreams  and  boyhood  visions 
in  the  solitude  of  the  farm. 

The  quest  for  the  impossible  is  not  always  vain ;  the 
search  for  the  unattainable  is  not  always  fruitless. 
The  sailor  who  steers  toward  a  star  brings  his  ship 
into  port.  Some  of  the  greatest  attainments  in  life 
have  been  unexpected  discoveries  on  the  road  to  the 
ideal;  some  of  the  world's  greatest  inventions  have 
been  incidental.  The  alchemists  of  the  middle  ages 
sought  the  philosopher's  stone  which  would  produce  the 
elixir  of  life  and  transmute  base  metal  into  gold.  Their 
quest  for  the  ideal  was  vain,  but  they  discovered  the 
science  of  chemistry. 

Arkwright  set  out  early  in  life  to  discover  perpetual 
motion ;  he  found  compensation  for  his  disappointment 
in  the  invention  of  his  spinning  machine  which,  before 
his  death,  had  revolutionized  cotton  manufacturing  in 
Europe.  Most  of  the  thousand  inventions  patented  by 
Mr.  Edison  were  developed  from  incidental  clues;  they 
were  simply  accidental  discoveries  upon  which  he 


THE    VALUE   OF   THE    IDEAL.  199 

stumbled  while  pursuing  some  ideal.  The  north  pole 
has  never  been  discovered,  but  new  lands  and  valuable 
geographical  knowledge  have  been  given  to  the  world 
as  the  rewards  of  heroic  effort. 

Sometimes  the  unexpected  attainment  is  greater  than 
the  ideal;  the  realization  often  exceeds  the  anticipa- 
tion. Sometimes  a  Saul  sets  out  in  search  of  his 
father's  asses  and  finds  a  kingdom;  sometimes  a  Col- 
umbus sails  in  search  of  a  passage  to  India  and  dis- 
covers a  new  world.  The  world  has  stumbled  upon 
some  of  its  most  valuable  discoveries,  while  following 
some  vain  illusion;  it  has  found  some  of  the  greatest 
truths  of  science  and  philosophy,  while  pursuing  some 
impossible  chimera. 

It  is  far  better  to  seek  the  unattainable  than  to  go 
through  life  without  an  ideal ;  it  is  better  to  dream  the 
impossible  than  never  to  dream  at  all.  The  longings 
and  aspirations  of  the  soul  help  to  redeem  labor  from 
drudgery,  and  to  invest  human  life  with  dignity  and 
glory. 

"  What  I  aspired  to  be 
And  was  not,  comforts  me." 

Unrealized  hopes  and  unanswered  prayers  help  to 
mold  the  soul  into  a  diviner  form.  Although  the 
secret  thoughts  and  purposes,  the  hopes  and  aspira- 
tions of  the  soul  may  never  crystallize  into  words  and 


200  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

deeds,  they  must  still  exert  a  potent  influence  upon  that 
mysterious  complex  we  call  character. 

"  All  instincts  immature, 

All  purposes  unsure, 
That  weighed  not  as  his  work,  yet  swelled  the  man's  amount; 

Thoughts  hardly  to  be  packed 

Into  a  narrow  act, 
Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped  ; 

All  I  could  never  be, 

All  men  ignored  in  me, 
This,  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped." 

There  can  be  no  absolute  failure  for  him  who  stead- 
ily pursues  a  high  and  noble  ideal.  He  may  not  reach 
the  distant  goal  upon  which  his  eye  is  fixed,  but  the 
joy  of  the  unexpected  attainments  by  the  way  often 
transcends  the  bliss  of  complete  realization.  Apparent 
failure  may  prove  to  be  our  greatest  blessing;  some- 
times it  proves  to  be  the  lens  that  corrects  our  dis- 
torted vision;  sometimes,  the  curative  agent  that  re- 
stores the  equilibrium  of  our  spiritual  powers.  The 
apparent  failures  of  life  are  often  grand  successes,  and 
what  the  world  pronounces  success  may  in  the  end 
prove  to  be  an  ignoble  failure.  All  depends  upon  the 
viewpoint. 

"  Not  failure  but  low  aim  is  crime." 

But  it  is  not  enough  to  dream.     The  soul  that  sleeps 
and  dreams  and  never  wakes  to  action  has  no  place  in 


THE   VALUE   OF   THE    IDEAL.  201 

the  category  of  life.  The  man  who  dreams  and  never 
acts,  who  is  "  disobedient  to  the  heavenly  vision,"  can 
never  hope  for  realization.  The  other  day,  a  little  boy 
in  a  primary  class  was  asked  by  his  teacher  to  tell  his 
dream.  It  was  a  beautiful  dream;  there  was  to  be  a 
great  party,  with  plenty  of  ice  cream  and  cake  and  flow- 
ers, and  his  teacher  had  been  invited  to  the  party.  The 
next  morning  he  brought  to  the  teacher  an  invitation 
from  his  mother  to  attend  a  reception  at  her  residence. 
It  is  beautiful  to  dream;  it  is  glorious  to  make  your 
dreams  come  true. 

"  Our  lives  must  climb  from  hope  to  hope 
And  realize  our  longing." 

That  is  a  pathetic  story  told  of  the  old  French  peasant 
who,  all  his  life,  had  longed  to  see  the  beautiful  city 
of  Carcasonne,  some  five  leagues  away.  At  last,  he  was 
grown  old  and  gray;  his  form  was  bent,  and  his  limbs 
were  unsteady  as  he  climbed  one  day  the  hillside  near 
his  native  village  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  castle  tower  and 
cathedral  spire,  as  they  rose  from  the  heart  of  Oarca- 
sonne,  against  the  sky,  beyond  the  blue  mist  of  the 
mountains.  With  quivering  voice  he  crooned  the  sad 
refrain : 

"  I  never  shall  see  Carcasonne  ;  I  never  shall  see  Carcasonne." 

"  One  sometimes  sees  beyond  his  reach, 
From  childhood  to  his  journey's  end." 


202  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

A  stranger  who  overheard  the  old  man's  crooning,  re- 
solved to  gratify  his  life's  desire.  "  On  the  morrow," 
said  he,  "  thon  shalt  journey  with  me  to  Carcasonne." 
Early  they  set  out  upon  the  journey.  But  alas,  that 
night  the  bells  tolled  the  death  of  the  old  peasant; 

"  The  old  man  died  upon  the  road, 
He  never  gazed  on  Carcasonne. 
Each  mortal  has  his  Carcasonne." 

Who  doubts  that  the  Carcasonne  of  the  old  man's 
dreams  was  far  more  beautiful  and  enchanting  than 
the  reality  he  had  longed  to  see?  There  may  be  aspira- 
tions too  noble  for  words  and  longings  too  deep  for 
expression ;  there  may  be  promises  too  fair  and  beauti- 
ful for  earthly  fulfillment  and  prayers  too  sublime  for 
answer  this  side  of  heaven.  The  Carcasonne  of  the 
heart  may  be  too  glorious  for  material  realization. 

"  In  the  globule  of  dew,  in  the  heart  of  the  rose, 
Lies  a  story  untold,  like  the  tragical  close 
Of  a  promising  life,  or  a  song  unsung, 
Or  a  stifled  cry  from  the  heart  whence  it  sprung." 


XXIV.  THE  LAWS  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

THE  world  today  accepts  the  theory  that  creation  is 
a  process  of  development  with  matter  as  a  basis.  In 
an  important  sense,  education  is  the  analogue  of  crea- 
tion, and  may  be  described  as  a  process  of  development 
with  mind  as  a  basis.  Nature's  processes  in  creation 
are  progressive  and  involve  the  development  of  matter 
from  lower  to  higher  forms,  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
plex. In  the  vast  accumulations  of  mineral  treasures 
stored  in  the  earth,  the  geologist  recognizes  the  prin- 
ciple of  progressive  development  operating  towards  a 
beneficent  end.  Human  skill  takes  the  raw  material 
thus  provided  by  Nature  and,  through  a  series  of  in- 
dustrial processes,  accomplishes  a  second  creation. 
The  manufacturer  develops  this  raw  material  progress- 
ively into  higher  and  more  valuable  forms  that  shall 
meet  the  requirements  of  civilization.  But  the  pro- 
cesses of  development  are  expensive.  Higher  forms  can 
be  evolved  from  lower  only  through  toil,  struggle,  and 
sacrifice.  This  law  of  development  is  universal  and 
inflexible.  Whether  we  examine  nature's  processes  in 
creation,  the  mechanical  agencies  of  furnace  and  fac- 

203 


204  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

tory,  or  turn  our  attention  to  the  processes  of  the  in- 
tellectual and  spiritual  realms,  everywhere  we  shall 
find  the  element  of  sacrifice  as  the  one  essential  condi- 
tion of  development  into  higher  and  nobler  states  of 
being. 

The  third  great  law  of  universal  development  in- 
volves the  purpose  towards  which  these  expensive  pro- 
cesses are  directed.  Nature  may  not  be  economical  in 
the  use  of  her  material;  she  has  plenty  of  time  and  is 
never  in  haste;  but  her  processes  are  never  aimless, 
never  vain  or  purposeless.  Wherever  we  find  develop- 
ment in  the  world  of  matter  or  of  man,  we  find  also 
that  unerringly 

"Through  the  ages, 

One  increasing  purpose  runs." 

The  great  purposes  of  nature  and  of  providence  are 
always  expressed  in  terms  of  usefulness  and  helpful- 
ness to  others.  The  great  end  of  all  development  is 
service. 

The  method  of  all  development  then  is  progress;  its 
condition,  sacrifice;  its  end,  service.  But,  in  order  to 
illustrate  more  clearly  and  forcibly  these  great  laws 
of  development,  I  shall  give  you  a  bit  of  material  sym- 
bolism, which  may  suggest  a  few  practical  lessons.  I 
shall,  therefore,  ask  you  to  follow  me  patiently  as  I 


THE    LAWS   OF   DEVELOPMENT.  205 

give  you  briefly  a  simple  story  of  development — the 
story  of  a  homely,  commonplace  bit  of  matter — a  story 
with  a  bit  of  local  coloring. 

One  day,  somewhat  over  sixty  years  ago,  Professor 
Michael  Tuoruey,  a  celebrated  British  scientist,  who 
afterwards  became  the  first  State  Geologist  of  Alabama, 
stood  alone  on  the  top  of  Red  Mountain.  The  trained 
eye  of  the  eminent  scientist  recognized  at  once  the 
wonderful  possibilities  of  the  commonplace  red  dirt 
which  he  found  in  such  profusion  about  him.  He 
recognized,  at  a  glance,  the  wonderful  capacities  with 
which  nature  had  endowed  that  raw  material,  and  un- 
derstood the  nature  of  the  processes  necessary  for  its 
conversion  into  a  higher  state  of  value  and  usefulness. 
He  measured  with  his  practical  eye  the  rich  hematite 
deposits  stored  away  in  that  mountain  range,  for  fu- 
ture development ;  he  saw,  in  the  valley  below,  the  lime 
rock  running  parallel  with  the  iron;  and  beyond  the 
valley,  the  vast  Warrior  coal  fields  with  their  exhaust- 
less  treasure  of  "  black  diamonds."  His  creative  im- 
agination quickly  combined  these  raw  materials,  and 
there  arose  before  him  a  remarkable  vision  of  the  future 
of  the  wonderful  valley.  In  that  vision,  he  projected 
himself  into  the  future;  he  saw  the  smoke  ascending 
from  a  thousand  industries  by  day,  and  the  night  made 
lurid  by  the  flames  from  as  many  furnaces,  rolling 


206  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

mills  and  factories;  and  a  teeming  population  pursu- 
ing the  various  avocations  of  a  great  and  prosperous 
city.  Descending  to  the  valley  below,  the  inspired 
scientist  directed  his  footsteps  towards  the  quiet  vil- 
lage of  Elyton.  To  a  crowd  of  farmers  and  villagers 
in  the  old  court  square,  he  related  his  wonderful  vision. 
They  listened  to  his  strange  story  with  compassionate 
interest,  but  laughed  his  predictions  to  scorn.  The 
enthusiastic  geologist  was  ridiculed  as  an  impractical 
theorist  and  a  visionary  fanatic.  Such  has  always  been 
the  reception  accorded  the  man  who  lives  in  advance  of 
his  contemporaries  and  proclaims  truths  beyond  the 
daily  experience  of  the  multitude.  Such  has  always 
been  the  fate  of  the  prophet  and  the  seer. 

The  iron  ore  in  the  Red  Mountain  Range  had  lain 
there  for  ages,  unappreciated,  until  the  trained  eye  of 
Professor  Tuomey  fell  upon  it.  The  savage  Indian  who 
hunted  his  prey  and  so  long  resisted  the  white  man's 
progress  in  North  Alabama  knew  of  its  existence  and 
used  it  as  war  paint.  The  pioneer  residents  of  the 
valley  were  familiar  with  it,  and  often  climbed  the 
mountain-side  in  search  of  the  "  dye-rock,"  as  they 
called  it.  Instead  of  using  it  to  color  bows  and  ar- 
rows and  to  paint  their  bodies,  as  the  Indians  had 
done,  they  used  it  to  dye  the  cloth  from  which  their 
garments  were  made;  but  the  vast  iron  ore  deposit  of 


THE    LAWS   OF   DEVELOPMENT.  207 

Bed  Mountain  was  still  without  money  value  in  the 
markets  of  the  world. 

Today,  we  see  the  vision  of  the  scientist  realized,  and 
the  prophecy  fulfilled.  The  crude  "  dye-rock  "  of  sixty 
years  ago  is  now  being  daily  transmuted,  by  a  series  of 
developing  processes,  into  higher  forms  of  matter  and 
into  ever-increasing  powers  of  value.  The  crude  ma- 
terial is  taken  from  the  mountain-side  and,  by  the  pro- 
cess of  roasting,  is  freed  from  its  sulphur  and  water 
and  converted  into  an  oxide.  This  oxide  is  placed  in 
the  blast  furnace,  with  lime  and  coke  in  alternate  lay- 
ers ;  and,  by  the  severe  process  of  smelting,  it  is  purged 
of  its  dross  and  impurities  and  reduced  to  a  molten 
stream  of  liquid  iron.  The  molten  matter  is  allowed 
to  crystallize  into  bars  of  pig-iron;  and,  in  this  form, 
the  crude  "  dye-rock  "  for  the  first  time  becomes  a  mer- 
chantable product,  with  a  positive  money  value  in  the 
markets  of  the  world.  The  "  dye-rock  "  has  completed 
the  primary  stage  of  its  development;  it  has  finished 
the  elementary  process  of  its  education. 

But  that  unattractive  "  dye-rock  "  was  originally  en- 
dowed with  capacity  to  become  something  more  than 
mere  pig-iron.  Its  native  powers  have  not  yet  been 
fully  developed. 

The  pig-iron  is  carried  to  the  rolling-mill,  where  it 
is  subjected  to  the  trying  processes  of  puddling  and 


208  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

rolling  and  hammering,  until  it  is  transformed  into  a 
still  higher  and  more  valuable  product.  It  is  now 
ready  for  a  wider  range  of  service  to  civilization  and 
is  prepared  to  perform  higher  duties  in  the  world.  The 
native  "  dye-rock "  of  the  pioneer  has  completed  the 
secondary  process  of  its  development;  it  has  finished 
the  high  school  stage  of  its  education,  and  stands  ready 
to  serve  civilization  as  wrought  iron.  It  is  richer  in 
value  because  of  its  increased  power  for  service. 

But  the  inherent  powers  of  the  raw  material  are 
capable  of  still  further  development,  and  we  find  the 
same  original  "  dye-rock  "  undergoing  the  severe  train- 
ing processes  of  the  steel  mill.  Here,  it  is  converted 
into  steel  ingots,  and  now  stands  forth  prepared  to  serve 
the  highest  purposes  of  the  world's  civilization.  It  has 
at  last  completed  the  college  curriculum  of  the  iron 
manufacturer,  and  commands  the  highest  prices  in  the 
world's  iron  markets. 

The  next  stage,  and  the  last  in  its  development,  is 
that  of  specialization.  The  uses  to  which  it  may  now 
be  applied  are  as  varied  as  the  wants  of  man ;  the  forms 
it  is  capable  of  assuming  are  as  diverse  and  interesting 
as  human  skill  and  ingenuity  may  devise.  It  is  pre- 
pared to  enter  any  department  of  the  world's  great 
university  of  applied  arts.  It  may  enter  a  factory 
where  it  becomes  specialized  into  steel  wire,  nails,  or 


THE    LAWS   OF    DEVELOPMENT.  209 

needles;  it  may  be  placed  in  an  establishment  where  it 
is  converted  into  fine  cutlery  and  costly  surgical  in- 
struments, or  into  steel  pens  or  hairsprings  for  watches. 
When  the  "  dye-rock "  of  Red  Mountain  has  passed 
through  this  course  of  training  and  has  become  special- 
ized in  one  of  the  great  departments  of  industry,  it  is 
prepared  to  render  the  highest  possible  service  to  the 
world.  Its  capacity  for  efficient  service  to  man  has 
increased  in  proportion  to  its  development.  As  crude 
iron  ore,  its  utility  was  practically  nothing.  As  cast 
iron,  it  was  capable  of  only  a  limited  service,  on  ac- 
count of  its  extreme  brittleness,  its  want  of  tenacity 
and  elasticity.  It  was  useful,  it  is  true,  for  many  of 
the  lower  purposes  of  life;  but  we  should  never  have 
expected  to  make  razors  or  surgical  instruments  out 
of  pig-iron.  As  wrought  iron,  it  was  adapted  for  a 
wider  field  of  usefulness;  but  no  one  would  have  un- 
dertaken to  convert  it  into  a  Damascus  blade  or  a  hair- 
spring for  a  Waltham  watch. 

The  higher  the  development  of  the  iron,  the  greater 
becomes  its  commercial  value.  The  "  dye-rock "  is 
practically  valueless  in  itself.  Its  price,  as  raw  ma- 
terial, is  determined  by  its  potential  value.  It  may 
be  worth  one  dollar  per  ton,  not  for  what  it  is  now,  but 
for  what  it  may  become.  As  pig  metal,  it  may  be  worth 
ten  times,  or  even  twenty  times  as  much;  but  a  large 


210  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

part  of  this  value  even  is  based  upon  its  anticipated 
development.  As  the  product  of  the  rolling-mill,  its 
actual  value  has  been  largely  enhanced;  and,  as  steel 
ingots,  it  may  be  worth  ten  times  the  value  of  the  pig- 
metal.  If  this  ton  of  steel  is  suitably  prepared  for  the 
manufacture  of  Esterbrook  pens,  it  is  worth  one  thou- 
sand dollars;  and  the  pens  will  sell  at  wholesale  for 
more  than  five  thousand  dollars.  If  this  ton  of  steel  is 
made  into  a  high  grade  of  needles,  these  needles  will 
sell  in  the  market  for  one  hundred  thousand  dollars; 
if  it  is  made  into  hairsprings  for  watches,  the  value  of 
these  hairsprings,  at  wholesale  prices,  will  exceed  five 
million  dollars.  This  enormous  increase  in  value  is  the 
result  of  the  development  processes  through  which  the 
raw  material  has  passed.  Experts  tell  us  that  ninety 
per  cent,  of  the  value  of  any  finished  product  repre- 
sents the  labor  involved  in  the  processes  of  its  produc- 
tion. The  increasing  value  of  the  iron,  then,  as  it 
passes  through  the  several  stages  of  progress,  from  the 
native  "  dye-rock  "  to  the  polished  steel  instrument,  is 
due  very  largely  to  the  intelligent  labor  expended  upon 
it. 

If  the  "  dye-rock  "  of  Red  Mountain  were  endowed 
with  reason  and  power  of  choice,  we  may  imagine  it 
protesting  against  being  torn  from  its  native  surround- 
ings and  carried  through  the  disagreeable  processes  of 


THE    LAWS   OF   DEVELOPMENT.  211 

the  blast  furnace.  It  is  entirely  satisfied  and  happy 
as  it  is,  and  knows  nothing  of  its  native  capacities  or 
future  possibilities.  Why  disturb  its  calm  repose  in 
the  bosom  of  that  mountain?  Why  not  let  it  rest  on 
in  contented  uselessness  and  comfortable  worthless- 
ness?  If  it  is  incapable  of  much  good,  it  is  likewise 
incapable  of  much  harm.  The  mishaps  and  crimes  of 
the  world  are  chargeable  very  largely  to  the  developed 
product.  The  pig-iron  may  smile  at  the  helplessness 
and  utter  insignificance  of  the  "  dye-rock."  It  may 
ridicule  the  idea  of  developing  the  worthless  red  dirt 
of  the  mountain  into  pig-iron  like  itself;  it  may  boast 
of  its  own  comparative  superiority  in  the  industrial 
world,  and  decry  that  worthless  mass  of  undeveloped 
red  rock  as  incapable  of  improvement  and  unworthy  of 
attention.  So  easy  is  it  to  forget  one's  origin. 

The  pig-iron  may  be  imagined  protesting  also  against 
continuing  its  course  in  the  rolling-mill  or  steel  mill. 
Is  it  not  already  worth  ten  dollars  a  ton?  Is  it  not 
already  fitted  for  a  great  variety  of  life's  duties?  Why 
waste  so  much  time  and  labor  upon  further  develop- 
ment, when  it  can  enter  at  once  upon  so  many  of  life's 
activities?  While  it  is  undergoing  a  course  of  train- 
ing and  preparation  in  these  higher  industrial  institu- 
tions, it  might  be  usefully  exercising  its  earning  capa- 
city in  the  great  busy  world  at  the  rate  of  ten  dollars  a 


212  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

ton.  It  has  all  the  training  it  wants ;  it  has  no  desire, 
no  ambition  to  be  anything  in  life  but  pig-iron.  The 
pig-iron  may  argue  also  that  many  of  its  pig-metal  ac- 
quaintances are  prospering  very  well  without  this  addi- 
tional sacrifice  of  time  and  labor;  bars  of  pig-metal  have 
been  converted  into  edged  tools  and  have  succeeded,  ap- 
parently, as  well  as  if  made  of  steel.  The  bar  of  pig- 
metal  is  vain  enough  and  conceited  enough  to  think  that 
it  can  accomplish  as  much  in  the  world  as  tempered 
steel;  it  is  presumptuous  enough  to  enter  into  the 
highest  and  most  delicate  of  life's  vocations.  The  mass 
of  red  dirt  in  the  world  may  not  know  the  difference 
between  a  cast-iron  and  a  steel  implement;  so  long  as 
the  pig-metal  does  not  come  in  contact  with  the  true 
steel,  its  imposition  may  never  be  detected,  and  its 
inefficiency  may  never  be  suspected.  Why  may  it  not 
enter  upon  the  higher  duties  of  the  industrial  world  in 
the  form  of  a  keen-bladed  knife  or  a  high-grade  sur- 
gical instrument  without  being  melted  in  a  converter, 
oxidized  by  high  pressure  air  currents  and  passed 
through  the  tortures  of  the  whole  Bessemer  process? 
But  the  lessons  of  actual  experience  are  most  convinc- 
ing; and  not  even  the  skill  of  an  expert  is  required  to 
detect  the  difference  between  the  edge  of  a  piece  of 
cast-iron  sharpened  by  hard  usage  and  the  keen  edge  of 
the  tempered  steel.  In  the  world  of  matter,  the  law  of 


THE    LAWS   OP   DEVELOPMENT.  213 

development  is  exacting,  and  will  admit  of  no  pretense, 
sham,  or  evasion.  The  highest  development  of  the  raw 
material  requires  sacrifice  and  subjection  to  definite 
processes. 

Again,  we  observe,  that,  in  the  world  of  matter,  the 
higher  the  development  the  wider  the  obligation.  The 
steel  has  greater  responsibilities  than  the  pig-iron,  be- 
cause it  has  to  deal  with  more  delicate  processes  and 
serve  more  important  purposes  in  the  world.  What- 
ever of  value  the  pig-iron  has  acquired  is  due  to  the 
skill  and  the  labor  that  have  constructed  the  intricate 
mechanism  of  the  blast  furnace.  Its  debt  to  the  world 
is  greater  than  that  of  the  "  dye-rock  "  or  of  the  pig- 
iron,  because  it  has  received  more.  It  has  been 
"  bought  with  a  price,"  it  has  been  "  redeemed  by  sac- 
rifice," and  it  must  repay  the  debt  by  service  and  sacri- 
fice. It  owes  this  service,  not  only  in  life's  higher  and 
more  fashionable  circles,  but  in  its  lower  and  humbler 
walks  as  well.  The  true  steel  should  never  forget  its 
origin.  It  must  lend  assistance  in  the  elevation  of  the 
"  dye-rock  "  from  its  subterranean  slumber.  The  steel 
plow  and  the  steel  hammer  are  not  degraded  by  working 
side  by  side  with  cast-iron  pick  and  crowbar,  in  lifting 
the  red  dirt  to  a  higher  state  of  value  and  usefulness. 
The  higher  product  is  under  obligation  to  elevate  the 
lower. 


214  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

This  simple  story  of  the  "  dye-rock  "  of  Red  Mountain 
is  rich  in  its  suggestiveness.  But  I  am  not  unconscious 
of  the  fact  that,  as  a  material  illustration  of  the  laws 
of  universal  development,  it  comes  far  short  of  the  pur- 
pose for  which  it  is  used.  The  mechanical  processes  re- 
quired for  the  development  of  crude  matter  into  higher 
forms  of  value  and  usefulness  can  indicate  to  us  only 
in  an  imperfect  way  the  transcendent  importance  of 
those  principles  and  processes  which  pertain  io  the 
development  of  immortal  mind.  Education  is  not  an 
act,  but  a  series  of  related  processes.  Conforming  to 
the  laws  of  universal  development,  its  methods  must 
be  progressive;  its  essential  condition  must  be  sacri- 
fice; and  its  one  supreme  end,  service  to  the  world. 

If  the  processes  of  education  were  merely  mechani- 
cal ;  if  the  mind  could  be  subjected  to  methods  similar 
to  those  applied  to  inert  matter,  the  work  of  the  school 
and  the  college  would  be  simple  indeed.  The  processes 
of  spiritual  development  require  the  mastery,  not  only 
of  the  fields  of  formal  knowledge  and  of  the  material 
environment,  but  also  of  the  impulses  and  the  ten- 
dencies, the  motives  and  the  powers,  of  that  delicate 
structure  we  call  the  human  soul,  that  self-conscious, 
self-acting,  and  self-determining  essence  whose  actions 
and  reactions  mysteriously  result  in  that  form  of 
development  which  we  call  education.  The  educational 


THE    LAWS   OF   DEVELOPMENT.  215 

elements  which  need  the  emphasis  today  are  not  the 
material  and  the  mechanical,  but  the  ethical  and  the 
spiritual.  Elegant  buildings,  expensive  libraries  and 
laboratories,  and  costly  mechanical  equipment,  however 
valuable  and  necessary,  may  prove  not  only  inadequate, 
but  positively  obstructive,  to  the  higher  ethical  ideals 
of  education,  if  they  exclude  those  nobler  and  more 
spiritual  elements  essential  to  the  highest  processes 
of  soul-development. 

The  plastic  human  material  placed  under  the  care 
of  the  teacher  and  subjected  to  the  processes  of  the 
school  are  not  so  many  bars  of  pig-iron  to  be  treated  by 
the  same  invariable  mechanical  laws  and  the  same  uni- 
form processes,  but  bundles  of  delicate  nerves,  tied 
up  with  mere  breaths  and  heart-beats,  enveloping  the 
beautiful  soul  within.  Handle  them  carefully  lest  you 
injure  the  sensitive  structure;  touch  them  gently  and 
with  no  unskillful  hand,  if  you  would  make  the  soul 
within  to  vibrate  in  unison  with  the  divine  purpose  in 
universal  development. 

"  Pluck  one  thread,  and  the  web  ye  mar; 
Break  but  one  of  a  thousand  keys, 
And  the  paining  jar  through  all  will  run." 

Our  State  has  only  within  the  past  two  decades  fully 
realized  the  great  value  of  her  undeveloped  material 
resources.  Today,  as  never  before,  she  is  beginning  to 


216  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

realize  the  fact  that  her  greatest  wealth  lies  in  the  un- 
told possibilities  of  her  human  "  raw  material,"  if  I 
may  use  the  expression — the  too  long  neglected  social 
"  dye-rock "  of  her  mountains  and  her  valleys.  The 
greatest  problem  that  can  confront  any  commonwealth 
is  the  development  of  its  young  men  and  women  into 
higher  forms  of  power  and  of  service  to  society;  the 
transformation  of  crude  ignorance  and  helpless  use- 
lessness  into  economic  factors,  moral  regenerators,  and 
social  redeemers.  The  solution  of  such  a  problem  re- 
quires the  lofty  enthusiasm  of  an  inspired  optimism 
and  the  moral  heroism  of  a  disinterested  patriotism. 


XXV.     MODERN    CHIVALRY. 

THE  age  of  chivalry  is  the  most  picturesque  and 
dramatic  period  in  the  world's  history.  The  stage  of 
action  of  this  world-drama  was  mediaeval  Europe,  with 
the  dense  ignorance,  social  chaos,  and  moral  darkness 
of  a  feudal  state  as  a  background. 

No  period  in  history  is  richer  in  dramatic  character 
and  poetic  incident.  It  has  given  us  Charlemagne  and 
his  Paladins,  the  Troubadours  and  the  Trouveres,  the 
Niebelungen  Lied  and  the  themes  of  the  Wagner 
Operas,  the  Arthurian  Legends  and  a  whole  library  of 
romances  in  poetry  and  in  prose.  To  this  dark  age  of 
the  world,  illumed  by  meteoric  flashes  of  human  senti- 
ment and  the  garish  dawn  of  a  coming  light,  our 
modern  literature,  music,  and  art  are  indebted  for 
their  richest  treasures.  As  we  study  the  genius  of  the 
feudal  state,  with  the  perspective  of  the  centuries,  we 
cannot  fail  to  penetrate  its  pomp  and  pageantry  and 
note  the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  and  unselfish  devotion 
to  a  cause,  which  dominated  the  order  of  knighthood. 
The  mission  of  the  chevalier  was  held  in  such  esteem 
that  his  preparation  required  long  and  severe  training. 

217 


218  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

Many  there  were  who  wished  to  enter  the  school  of 
chivalry,  but  few  there  were  who  could  stand  the  tests 
necessary  to  win  the  degree  of  knighthood. 

Come  with  me  in  imagination  for  a  few  minutes  and 
witness  the  "  commencement "  of  a  knightly  career. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  dramatic  and  impressive  scenes 
in  the  life  of  the  period.  In  the  spacious  court  of  the 
baronial  castle,  we  see  a  brilliant  assemblage  of  brave 
knights  and  beautiful  ladies,  the  flower  of  ancient 
chivalry,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  candidate  who 
this  day  is  to  be  invested  with  the  honors  and  dignities 
of  knighthood.  Shining  shield  and  glistening  armor 
reflect  the  sunshine  and  make  the  barren  courtyard  a 
blazing  sea  of  light.  At  last,  we  hear  the  trumpet 
signal  and  see  the  "  eandidatus,"  a  white-robed  youth, 
with  a  knightly  sword  suspended  from  his  neck,  emerg- 
ing from  the  castle  hall.  His  manly  form  and  noble 
bearing  indicate  strength  of  mind  and  body,  while  his 
modesty  and  gentle  courtesy  attest  his  moral  worth 
and  careful  training.  His  period  of  education,  cover- 
ing fourteen  years,  is  now  completed,  and  he  stands,  a 
youth  of  twenty-one,  ready  to  graduate  and  to  receive 
the  degree  that  will  win  him  consideration  and  honor 
among  his  fellows  and  entitle  him  to  enter  the  lists  as 
a  knight,  valiant  and  true.  While  he  thus  stands  in 
the  presence  of  the  brilliant  assemblage,  the  priest 


MODERN    CHIVALEY.  219 

takes  his  sword  and  blesses  it  in  the  name  of  religion ; 
the  feudal  lord,  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign,  propounds 
the  usual  questions  in  the  catechism  of  knighthood, 
regarding  his  habits,  his  motives,  and  the  principles 
that  are  to  be  the  guide  of  his  future  conduct.  Then, 
kneeling,  with  one  hand  uplifted  and  the  other  grasp- 
ing the  hilt  of  his  sword,  the  "  candidatus "  recites, 
with  ringing  voice,  the  "  confession  of  faith  "  of  knight- 
hood, in  which  he  solemnly  vows  "  to  tell  the  truth,  to 
succor  the  weak  and  the  defenseless,  and  never  to  turn 
back  from  an  enemy."  He  then  rises,  and  the  white 
robe  of  the  candidate  is  exchanged  for  the  armor  of 
the  chevalier.  With  becoming  ceremony,  he  is  pre- 
sented with  the  coat  of  mail,  the  shield,  the  gauntlet, 
and  the  rest  of  his  knightly  equipment.  Lastly,  the 
sword  is  buckled  to  his  side,  his  superior  lord  presents 
him  with  a  lance,  and  suddenly  gives  him  a  stinging 
blow  on  the  cheek  with  his  own — the  last  insult  he 
shall  ever  permit  to  pass  unavenged.  The  young 
chevalier  again  kneels,  and  the  impressive  accolade  is 
now  administered.  His  superior  lord  gives  three  light 
strokes  with  the  flat  of  his  sword  upon  his  head  and 
shoulders  and  reverently  pronounces  the  significant 
formula  of  investiture :  "  In  the  name  of  God,  Saint 
Michael,  and  Saint  George,  I  create  thee  a  knight.  Be 
valiant,  be  courteous,  be  loyal."  The  ceremony  of 


220 


investiture  is  ended;  the  young  knight  puts  on  his 
helmet ;  and,  mounting  his  richly  caparisoned  horse,  he 
rides  forth  to  battle,  if  need  be,  to  die  for  the  principles 
he  has  espoused. 

The  old  age  of  chivalry  has  long  since  passed  away. 
Knighthood  with  all  its  glory  and  splendid  pageantry 
is  now  classed  with  a  vanished  "  dark  age  "  of  history. 
The  halberd,  the  shield,  and  the  coat  of  mail  are  still 
prized,  however,  not  merely  as  objects  of  curiosity  in 
our  museums,  but  also  as  symbols  of  the  spiritual 
weapons  of  a  new  order  of  chivalry.  The  spirit  of  the 
old  chivalry  still  remains  in  the  new;  the  body  has 
changed  its  form,  but  its  soul  lives  on.  The  virtues  of 
the  old  chivalry  belong  exclusively  to  no  age  or  period ; 
they  have  been  transmitted  to  us,  freed  from  the 
glamour  of  arms  and  the  limitations  of  caste,  and  con- 
stitute the  virtues  of  a  new  age  and  of  a  modern  chiv- 
alry that  incomparably  outranks  the  old. 

"  The  old  order  changeth,        *       *       * 
And  God  fulfills  himself  in  many  ways." 

The  spirit  of  the  old  order  of  chivalry  is  just  as  po- 
tent today  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Richard  the  Lion- 
Hearted;  the  personal  virtues  of  the  old  order  are  in- 
cluded in  the  requirements  of  the  new ;  the  duties  and 
obligations  of  truth  and  loyalty,  temperance  and  pur- 


MODERN    CHIVALRY.  221 

ity,  courtesy  and  generosity  are  even  more  binding 
upon  us  today  than  they  were  upon  the  plumed  knight 
who  rode  forth  from  his  castle  gate 

"  With  eager  hope  and  valor  high, 
And  the  proud  glow  of  chivalry 
That  dared  to  do  and  die." 

He  who  would  be  a  chevalier  of  the  modern  order 
must  first  "  tell  the  truth,  do  justice,  succor  the  weak 
and  the  defenseless,  and  never  turn  back  from  an 
enemy  "  of  righteousness. 

Charles  Kingsley  aptly  says  that  "  The  Age  of 
Chivalry  is  never  past,  so  long  as  there  is  a  wrong  left 
unredressed  on  earth,  and  a  man  or  woman  left  to  say, 
'  I  will  redress  that  wrong,  or  spend  my  life  in  the 
attempt.'  "  The  wrongs  to  be  redressed  today  may  not 
be  the  same  as  those  of  the  days  of  Arthur  and  Sir 
Galahad;  but  there  are  still  wrongs  to  be  redressed, 
just  as  real,  just  as  pressing. 

The  knight  of  old  put  his  trust  in  his  sword  and  his 
good  right  arm.  Might  too  often  made  right,  and 
muscle  made  morality.  Physical  force  and  material 
weapons  decided  the  victory.  The  modern  knight  must 
use  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  forces.  Intel- 
lectual power  and  spiritual  insight,  faith  in  man  and 
faith  in  God — these  are  the  weapons  of  modern  chiv- 
alry. 


222  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

The  duties  of  modern  knighthood  are  far  broader  and 
more  comprehensive  than  those  of  the  old.  The  duties 
of  the  mediaeval  knight  were  personal  duties  to  indi- 
viduals of  his  own  or  of  a  superior  rank,  never  to  those 
of  a  lower.  The  wrongs  he  avenged  were  personal 
wrongs;  the  enemies  he  fought  were  men  like  himself. 
He  knew  no  society  but  that  of  the  castle  hall  and 
recognized  no  laws  but  those  of  his  own  order.  His 
soul  never  felt  the  thrill  of  a  lofty  patriotism,  and  his 
heart  never  beat  with  a  noble  enthusiasm  for  humanity. 
The  genius  of  the  old  chivalry  was  individualism,  its 
keynote  was  personality.  It  developed  the  individual, 
but  did  little  directly  for  the  State  or  for  society.  Its 
code  of  honor  was  restricted  by  caste;  its  code  of 
ethics  was  tribal  and  superficial;  its  courtesy  and  hu- 
manity did  not  include  the  helpless  horde  of  vassals 
that  supplied  the  needs  of  camp  and  castle  hall.  Such 
a  code  is  too  narrow  for  the  modern  age;  the  duties 
of  modern  knighthood  must  extend  beyond  the  personal 
and  the  individual.  We  live  in  organized  society,  and 
our  work  must  be  done  largely  through  organized  forces 
and  institutional  agencies.  The  personal  element  must 
still  be  effective ;  but  it  must  be  made  effective  through 
the  school,  the  Church,  the  State,  and  other  social  and 
institutional  forces.  The  modern  knight  must  fight 
organized  evil  through  organization.  There  are  social 


MODERN    CHIVALRY.  223 

diseases  to  be  healed  and  civic  wrongs  to  be  righted. 
The  weak  and  the  defenseless  are  today  appealing  for 
help  and  succor;  legalized  injustice  and  rank  oppres- 
sion walk  along  the  highways  of  life  unreproved;  per- 
jury and  dishonesty  too  often  invade  our  halls  of  justice 
and  sear  the  civic  conscience.  There  are  children  today 
deprived  of  the  rights  of  childhood;  some  are  sent  to 
the  factory  instead  of  the  school ;  some  are  condemned 
to  associate  with  hardened  criminals  in  our  mines 
and  prisons  till  hope  is  killed  and  the  bloom  of  life 
fades  away.  Many  of  our  own  race  are  doomed  to 
face  the  duties  of  life  and  the  obligations  of  citizenship 
without  the  light  of  education  or  the  inspiration  of 
knowledge. 

The  crusades  of  the  old  chivalry  represented  a  great 
upheaval  of  the  people  for  the  purpose  of  delivering 
from  the  hands  of  the  Moslems  the  tomb  of  the  Christ. 
We  need  today  a  crusade  of  modern  chivalry  to  recover 
from  the  forces  of  ignorance  and  superstition  the  tomb 
of  humanity.  Christ  is  still  buried  wherever  His 
brother  man  is  shrouded  in  ignorance  and  superstition. 
We  need  another  Peter  the  Hermit,  to  lead  the  flower 
of  modern  chivalry  in  a  crusade  for  the  deliverance  of 
children  of  tender  years  from  that  slavery  which  dwarfs 
soul  and  body  in  mine  and  factory,  to  satisfy  the  greed 
of  heartless  capital.  We  need  a  new  knight  errantry 


224  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

that  will  bravely  face  the  social,  political,  and  indus- 
trial problems  of  our  time,  and  never  turn  back  from 
the  organized  forces  of  injustice  and  oppression. 

The  ancient  chevalier  was  ready  to  suffer  death,  if 
need  be,  in  defense  of  a  noble  cause.  The  modern 
chevalier  may  not  be  called  upon  to  suffer  physical 
death,  but  he  is  and  will  be  called  upon  to  do  something 
far  more  difficult — to  live  for  the  truth.  But  never 
was  a  great  cause  triumphant  without  sacrifice;  and 
the  modern  knight  will  be  required  to  sacrifice  social 
or  political  life,  to  face  social  death  or  political  martyr- 
dom, which  is  a  far  sterner  test  of  valor,  loyalty,  and 
true  patriotism  than  any  form  of  physical  death.  It  re- 
quires more  true  courage  today  to  practice  the  truth 
at  home,  among  our  own  friends,  than  to  preach  it  to 
the  heathen  beyond  the  seas ;  it  requires  greater  heroism 
today  to  champion  an  unpopular  cause  at  home,  in  our 
own  city  or  county,  than  to  die  for  the  flag  on  a  foreign 
shore.  The  highest  test  of  heroism  is  not  on  the  battle- 
field amidst  the  roar  of  cannon  and  the  music  of 
musketry,  but  in  the  quiet  fields  of  everyday  life;  in 
business,  in  society,  in  municipal,  state,  and  national 
politics,  or  in  the  commonplace  duties  of  the  home,  and 
the  humble  associations  of  the  farm  and  the  workshop. 
The  boy  who  stoops  to  pick  a  banana  peel  off  the  side- 
walk, or  shuts  a  neighbor's  gate,  by  accident  left  ajar, 


MODBEN   CHIVALRY.  225 

by  these  simple,  thoughtful  acts  shows  the  heroic  spirit 
of  a  modern  chevalier. 

"  Who  puts  back  in  place  a  fallen  bar, 

Or  flings  a  rock  from  the  traveled  road, 
His  feet  are  moving  toward  the  central  star, 
His  name  is  whispered  in  the  God's  abode." 

The  times  call  loudly  today  for  knights  and  ladies, 
valiant  and  true,  to  enter  the  lists  of  a  new  knight 
errantry  at  home,  in  the  cause  of  education,  social 
betterment,  and  civic  righteousness.  Young  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  the  High  School,  this  call  comes  to  you 
today,  as  the  successors  of  the  brave  knights  of  old,  and 
the  representatives  of  modern  knighthood.  You  are 
heirs  of  all  the  chivalry,  of  all  the  ages  of  the  past.  By 
your  opportunities  and  privileges,  you  are  created 
knights  and  ladies  of  this  new  order  of  chivalry.  Upon 
you  rests  the  obligation  to  battle  for  the  truth,  "  to 
succor  the  weak  and  the  defenseless,  and  never  turn 
back  from  an  enemy."  Be  valiant,  be  courteous,  be 
loyal. 

A  generation  ago,  commencement  sermons  and  col- 
lege addresses  emphasized  the  fact  that  school  life  is 
a  preparation  for  the  future.  This  is  true  as  far  as 
it  goes;  but,  today,  we  recognize  the  larger  truth  that 
the  school  course  is  not  a  preparation  for  life,  it  is  life 
itself.  We  must  not  impair  the  unity  and  the  integrity 


226  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

of  life  by  dividing  it  into  segments  and  transferring 
the  realities  and  responsibilities  of  the  present  to  the 
unseen  future.  Life,  as  an  ethical  entity,  is  not  meas- 
ured by  years  or  periods,  but  by  the  realities  compressed 
into  the  present  moment,  the  eternal  now. 

"  The  past  and  the  time  to  be  are  one, 
And  both  are  now." 

Upon  the  coat-of-arms  of  one  of  the  most  powerful  of 
the  ancient  ducal  families  of  France  was  inscribed  the 
motto,  "  Noblesse  Oblige  " — Nobility  obligates.  The 
nobility  conferred  by  birth  or  culture,  by  wealth  or 
power,  by  talent  or  opportunity,  imposes  corresponding 
obligations.  The  proof  of  your  excellence  is  the  bene- 
fit you  confer  upon  others ;  the  test  of  your  nobility  is 
your  recognition  of  the  obligation  it  imposes.  The 
true  scholar  imparts  his  wisdom  to  others ;  the  scientist 
recognizes  his  obligation  to  give  the  world  the  benefit 
of  his  discoveries;  and  today,  there  is  no  more  sig- 
nificant fact  in  modern  life  than  the  increasing  recogni- 
tion of  the  obligations  of  wealth,  as  illustrated  by  the 
many  munificent  contributions  to  the  cause  of  educa- 
tion and  of  popular  culture.  The  most  hopeful  sign  of 
the  twentieth  century  is  the  practical  application  of  the 
old  French  motto,  "  Noblesse  Oblige." 
You  belong  to  the  noblest  and  proudest  race  under 


MODERN    CHIVALRY.  227 

the  sun — a  race  that  has  won,  through  sacrifice  and 
blood,  the  right  of  empire  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth;  a  race  that,  by  its  genius,  has  stored  in  the 
temple  of  wisdom  the  richest  fruits  from  the  fields  of 
literature,  science,  and  art.  You  are  justly  proud  of 
the  achievements  of  your  race  and  of  the  nobility  of 
your  ancestors.  But  remember,  young  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, all  this  obligates :  "  Noblesse  Oblige." 

You  are  enjoying  opportunities  of  culture  today, 
perhaps  through  the  struggles  and  sacrifices  of  fathers, 
who,  because  of  the  storm  and  stress  of  civil  strife  a 
generation  ago,  were  denied  the  advantages  of  school 
or  college;  opportunities  obligate  "Noblesse  Oblige." 
You  are  here  today,  perhaps,  because  of  the  loving  sacri- 
fice of  a  devoted  mother,  who  works  a  little  harder, 
stints  herself  each  day  a  little  more,  and  manages  to 
live  with  plainer  clothes  for  herself  and  fewer  comforts 
for  the  home,  that  her  son  or  daughter  may  get  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  high  school  education ;  a  mother's  devotion 
and  sacrifice  obligate :  "  Noblesse  Oblige." 

The  possession  of  wealth  or  power  or  learning  im- 
plies obligations  to  society;  and  the  glory  of  human  life 
consists  in  the  discharge  of  these  obligations.  What 
a  revelation  of  the  divine  do  we  find  in  those  wonderful 
words  of  Christ,  "  The  glory  that  thou  hast  given  me, 
I  have  given  unto  them."  The  glory  of  the  Christ  was 


228  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

not  that  of  receiving,  but  of  giving;  not  that  of  posses- 
sion, but  of  transmission.  We  are  too  apt  to  look  upon 
our  wealth,  our  power,  our  fame,  our  culture,  and  say, 
"  This  is  mine,  my  success,  my  pride,  my  honor,  my 
glory."  We  forget  that  there  is  nothing  glorious  in 
mere  possession.  Indeed  it  may  be  even  mean  and  in- 
glorious. The  glory  of  it  all  lies  in  our  ability  to  say, 
"  The  glory  that  thou  hast  given  me,  I  have  given  unto 
them."  The  true  worth  of  human  life  lies  in  its  trans- 
missive  capacity.  In  that  wonderful  miracle  of  modern 
science,  the  telephone,  there  is  a  little  metallic  film 
called  the  transmitter.  Into  this,  the  message  is  de- 
livered; and  the  mysterious  vibrations  are  repeated 
hundreds  of  miles  away.  The  real  worth  of  the  tele- 
phone lies,  not  merely  in  its  power  to  receive,  but  in  its 
transmissive  capacity.  Take  away  from  the  telephone 
that  capacity,  and  you  take  away  the  great  purpose  of 
its  existence.  Take  away  from  human  life  the  power 
to  transmit  to  others  God's  messages,  through  wealth 
and  culture,  literature  and  art,  and  you  take  away  from 
it  God's  great  purpose  in  creation.  Your  inheritance 
of  gentle  birth,  civil  liberty,  and  cultured  environment, 
are  messages  transmitted  to  you  from  the  distant  past. 
Upon  you  rests  the  solemn  obligation  to  transmit  them 
unimpaired  to  others  who  are  wearily  waiting  here  at 
home  or,  it  may  be,  far  away,  for  these  messages  of 


MODERN    CHIVALRY.  229 

light  and  knowledge,  love  and  peace.  The  truly  cul- 
tured man  today  is  he  who  recognizes  the  fact  that 
every  good  and  perfect  gift  from  science,  from  litera- 
ture, and  from  human  experience,  is  a  trust  for  the 
benefit  of  humanity.  It  is  our  obligation  to  use  these 
gifts,  not  to  glorify  ourselves,  but  for  the  purpose  of  uplift- 
ing and  ennobling  other  lives.  Be  not  content  with  mere 
possession ;  cultivate  the  power  of  transmission. 

There  are  two  dangers  of  modern  life  against  which 
we  need  to  raise  a  note  of  warning.  The  first  is  that 
tendency  to  exclusive  specialization  which  narrows  the 
life  of  the  individual  to  one  trade  or  one  profession. 
However  necessary  this  may  seem  in  the  lower  mechan- 
ical avenues  of  trade  and  industry,  it  limits  the  possi- 
bility of  sympathetic  interest  in  the  great  concerns  of 
life  about  us.  The  man  must  be  larger  than  his  trade 
or  profession ;  larger  than  his  city  or  state ;  larger  than 
his  church  or  denomination.  The  man  of  greatest  per- 
sonality, widest  vision,  and  largest  sympathies,  is  he 
who  has  the  widest  range  of  human  interests.  We  are 
often  reminded  of  the  political  maxim,  "  Public  office 
is  a  public  trust."  We  need  to  realize  today  that  pri- 
vate life  is  also  a  public  trust,  and  that,  in  proportion 
to  its  privileges  and  opportunities,  it  has  duties  and  ob- 
ligations to  the  community,  the  State,  the  Church,  and 
to  humanity  at  large. 


230  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

The  second  danger  to  which  I  allude  is  the  tendency 
to  accept  the  present  conditions  in  politics,  economics, 
and  even  in  religion,  as  permanent  and  unchangeable. 
Do  not,  I  pray  you,  join  in  the  pessimistic  cry  that 
things  must  go  on  forever  as  they  are ;  that  "  purity  in 
politics  must  ever  remain  an  irridescent  dream,"  and 
that  social  reforms  must  be  relegated  to  the  realm  of 
impractical  idealism.  Such  doctrine  is  cowardly,  per- 
nicious, and  irreligious.  The  new  chivalry  is  dominated 
by  faith  in  man  and  hope  for  the  future.  The  opera- 
tions of  enlightened  philanthropy  are  widening  and 
broadening  our  sympathies;  constructive  sociology  has 
become  a  recognized  principle  of  government  and  of 
religion ;  and  formation  rather  than  reformation  is  the 
key  to  human  betterment.  The  new  chivalry  proves  its 
faith  in  God  by  its  faith  in  man,  and  realizes  its  highest 
conception  of  divine  worship  in  human  service. 

•  You  doubtless  recall  that  beautiful  story  of  ancient 
chivalry,  the  Holy  Grail.  It  has  been  sung  over  and 
over  again  by  Tennyson,  and  still  more  sweetly  by  our 
own  poet,  Lowell.  You  recall  how  Sir  Launfal  had  re- 
solved to  devote  himself  to  a  pious  quest  for  the  Holy 
Grail.  His  armor  was  burnished,  his  steed  was  in  readi- 
ness, and  all  his  preparations  were  complete  for  his 
departure  on  the  morrow.  He  laid  himself  down  to 
rest  and  sleep;  and,  while  he  slept,  there  came  to  him 


MODERN    CHIVALRY.  231 

the  wonderful  vision  that  transformed  his  life.  He 
dreamed  that  the  eventful  morn  had  come,  and 

"  Sir  Launfal  flashed  forth  in  his  unscarred  mail, 
To  seek  in  all  climes  for  the  Holy  Grail." 

As  he  rode  forth  from  the  castle  gate  upon  his  noble 
charger,  a  loathsome  leper  clad  in  filthy  rags  stretched 
forth  his  hands  and  begged  for  bread  to  eat.  With 
condescending  pity,  Sir  Launfal  cast  at  his  feet  a 
golden  coin  and  proudly  rode  away,  thinking  he  had 
done  a  deed  of  charity.  But  the  beggar  scorned  to 
touch  the  gold,  when  the  love  he  craved  was  denied. 

"Better  to  me  the  poor  man's  crust, 
Better  the  blessing  of  the  poor, 
Though  I  turn  me  empty  from  his  door; 
That  is  no  true  alms  which  the  hand  can  hold ; 
He  gives  nothing  but  worthless  gold 

Who  gives  from  a  sense  of  duty ; 
But  he  who  gives  but  a  slender  mite, 
And  gives  to  that  which  is  out  of  sight, 

That  thread  of  the  all-sustaining  Beauty 
Which  runs  through  all  and  doth  all  unite, — 
The  hand  cannot  clasp  the  whole  of  his  alms, 
The  heart  outstretches  its  eager  palms." 

In  his  unavailing  search  for  the  Holy  Grail,  Sir 
Launfal  has  ridden  around  the  world,  and  after  many, 
many  years,  returns  again,  at  the  sweet  Christmas  time, 
but  now  an  old  man,  worn  and  poor  and  bent  in  form. 
His  gilded  mail,  too  heavy  for  his  weary  limbs  to  bear, 


232  OLD   TALES   AND    MODERN    IDEALS. 

has  been  laid  aside ;  his  sword  and  his  charger  are  gone ; 
and  in  yonder  castle  lives  another  who  tells  him  that 
Sir  Launfal  is  long  since  dead.  Shivering  in  his  rags, 
the  old  man  sits  by  the  frozen  stream  to  eat  his  last 
crust  of  bread,  when,  lo !  there  stands  before  him  again 
the  self-same  leper  that  accosted  him  years  before 
on  the  proud  morn  of  his  departure.  Again  the  poor 
leper  begs  for  bread  to  eat.  Now,  Sir  Launfal  looks 
upon  him  not  with  loathing,  but  with  love  and  rev- 
erence : 

"The  heart  within  him  was  ashes  and  dust; 
He  parted  in  twain  his  simple  crust, 
He  broke  the  ice  on  the  streamlet's  brink, 
And  gave  the  leper  to  eat  and  drink." 

It  was  only  a  moldy  crust  of  bread  that  he  gave  the 
leper  to  eat;  it  was  only  water  from  a  wooden  bowl 
that  he  gave  the  leper  to  drink;  but  the  brown  crust 
became  fine  wheaten  bread,  and  the  water  became  red 
wine.  Changing  the  water  into  wine  was  the  first 
miracle  of  our  Lord's  ministry  to  man;  to  change  the 
water  of  earthly  poverty  into  the  wine  of  heavenly 
mercy — this  is  always  and  everywhere  the  first  miracle 
of  the  divine  life.  As  Sir  Launfal  gazes,  lo !  The  bread 
becomes  the  flesh,  and  the  water  the  blood,  of  the  Son  of 
God;  and  the  leper  stands  before  him  the  embodied 
Christ! 


MODERN    CHIVALRY.  233 

"  The  leper  no  longer  crouched  at  his  side, 
But  stood  before  him  glorified, 
Shining  and  tall  and  fair  and  straight 
As  the  pillar  that  stood  by  the  Beautiful  Gate, — 
Himself  the  Gate,  whereby  men  can 
Enter  the  temple  of  God  in  Man." 

Thus  are  we  taught  the  truest  and  noblest  lesson  of 
human  life.  The  "  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal  "  is  not  simply 
a  beautiful  dream,  but  a  vital  reality  in  the  true  life 
of  the  soul.  Not  in  pomp  or  wealth  or  power,  not  in 
weary  journeys  through  distant  lands,  are  we  to  find 
our  Holy  Grail,  but  in  poverty,  or  sacrifice,  at  home,  at 
our  very  gates. 

The  story  of  Sir  Launfal's  Vision  is  the  ideal  of 
Modern  Chivalry,  and  its  spirit  of  sacrifice  is  the  test 
of  Modern  Knighthood. 

"  The  Holy  Supper  is  kept,  indeed, 
In  whatso  we  share  with  another's  need ; 
Not  what  we  give,  but  what  we  share, — 
For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare ; 
Who  gives  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three, — 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  Me." 

To  you,  young  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  can  bring  no 
nobler  message,  no  loftier  ideal.  To  you,  who  are  thus 
ennobled  by  race  and  exalted  by  glorious  opportunity ; 
to  you,  who  are  the  recipients  of  the  richest  intellectual 
and  spiritual  treasures  of  the  past,  to  you  let  me  give 
the  parting  injunction,  "  Noblesse  Oblige."  "  Be  val- 
iant, be  courteous,  be  loyal." 


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